Early April in Michigan, at the tail end of the harshest winter in anyone's memory, and not long ago it was 7 degrees when I awakened. My Little League team's first practice was held last week (after 3 cancellations based on low 30's and freezing rain). But today it's sunny and 50 degrees, with more of the same tomorrow, and, lo and behold, the MLB season is two weeks old! You must forgive me for only waking up slowly to this reality—the mood and the meteorology didn't quite fit, but now that they do, the season beckons, and we must respond.
On to the predictions, and this time I will summon the Muse to guide me. Amazingly, the subtleties of poetic scansion, applied to the expanded Spring Training rosters of each team, reveal a new vista of judgment, undreamed of by the sabermetrics crowd. Who needs Bill James's Baseball Abstract when I have my tattered copy of Paul Fussell's consummate text on prosody, Poetic Meter and Poetic Form?! Now I'm able to judge the poesy of each team.
Let me offer the briefest of primers on meter, then off to the AL East! Everyone has heard of the iamb (as in iambic pentameter), a poetic foot consisting of an unaccented syllable followed by one that is accented (written symbolically: U / ). The reverse of this is a foot called a trochee (/ U ). The heavier two-syllable foot is the spondee (/ / ); the unaccented two-syllable foot is the pyrrhic (U U). Some poetic feet have three syllables—the anapest (U U / ) and the dactyl (/ U U ) are the most prominent in English, but Greek and Latin verse include such iterations as the amphibrach ( U / U ) and the cretic ( / U / ), and, what the heck, why not mention the obscure molossus ( / / /)? There are even feet, in classical scansion, with four syllables, but that's enough for now—let's learn on the move.
Our first stop is Baltimore, where the Orioles are a team on the rise, not just because of the eye-popping power numbers of 1B Chris Davis, but also because of the vast metrical variations on the roster. From the strident rhythm of their manager Buck Showalter (/ / U U: a rare trochee, pyrrhic combo!) to the natural double amphibrach in pitching prospect Alfredo Aceves (U / U U / U ) to the sharp, alliterative spondee of pitcher Brad Brach ( / / ), this team shows a lyrical bent that may separate them from the pack in the talented and always-stacked AL East. Add to the mix an outfield of natural amphibrachs, led by their to-drawer free agent signee Nelson Cruz ( / U /), alongside the echoing OF's Adam Jones ( / U / ) and David Lough ( / U / ), and the sonority matches the right-handed power. But is all this enough for the divisional crown? In a word, molossus! Yes, the presence of Wei-Yin Chen ( / / /) on the pitching staff tips the scale and the O's contend into late September.
What about the World Champion Red Sox, you ask? They fade by mid-August. The best they can muster poetically is the triple trochee closer Koji Uehara ( / U / U / U ) (whose name also contains all the vowels, but hey, this isn't a phonics lesson), and the sharp, metallic spondee of Mike Carp ( / / ). I'd give a nod to the mellifluous Dustin Pedroia ( / U U / U ), but the scansion runs over by half a foot. I've suffered enough Red Sox success this past year, so I'm keeping this short and perhaps cruel.
And the Yankees, the beloved team of my youth in Upstate NY (and by coincidence, who should appear on my university's campus last fall to dedicate the new baseball stadium, but 1978 co-World Series MVP Brian Doyle), this team of massive payroll but paltry poetry-roll, looks to disappoint as well. The career has been brilliant but the scansion dull for double trochee Derek Jeter ( / U / U ), and though catcher and double amphibrach Francisco Cervelli ( U / U U / U ) offers possibilities, the pitching staff is just a little off, not in ERA or WHIP, but in allegiance to the accentual-syllabic foot: hence, Michael Pineda ( / U U / U) and CC Sabathia ( / / U / U U ) are a bit short (or long) in meter, and Ivan Nova ( U / / U ) has a forced accentuation on his first name that perhaps smudges together the alliterative possibility … you get the picture. The Yankees compete but fade late in the season (unless they call up the poetically named minor league infielder Zelous Wheeler—double trochee like the Captain, but with a fervor!—by August. Take note, Brian Cashman!
I've not forgotten Tampa and Toronto, but poetic odds are even at best up north and down south. The Rays lean on their pitching, and wisely so, but Heath Bell ( / / ) and Matt Moore ( / / ) don't stir much intrigue with their straight spondees. There is a ripple of action with the double dactyl of Jeremy Hellickson (/ U U / U U ) certainly, but the truly mellifluous hurler Braulio Lara ( / U U / U), with his doubling of alliteration and assonance, is a non-roster invitee destined for the minors. Not a good sign. Likewise, among the important position players, there are metrical fits and starts, with a tiresomely recurrent pattern for Ben Zobrist, James Loney, and Wil Myers ( / / U ). And the new closer Grant Balfour echoes this further. Tough times in Tampa.
What about north of the border, in Blue Jay land? There are some points of linguistic interest, such as a staff containing both R. A. Dickey and J. A. Happ (the latter technically a molossus!), and a few likely minor-league hurlers named Adam Loup and Deck McGuire (both natural cretics: / U / ). At the plate, there is no doubt about the power the Jays bring, with Edwin Encarnacion (emphasis on first and final syllables creates a lovely metrical pattern: / U U U U U / ) and Jose Bautista (a slightly ragged scansion of U / U / U indicates that his OPS might suffer this year), but the real place to look is to the non-roster invitee infielder Munenori Kawasaki (what? a double version of the coveted "third paeon" foot? yes, indeed: U U / U U U / U )! Call him up in April, and the team will surge. Likewise, hope may blossom if journeyman outfielder Matt Tuiasosopo ( / / U U U / U ) gets a chance to platoon in left—triple vowel assonance in a surname is worth 60 RBI's! But the season-long prognosis is middling, since the rhythmic master-stroke of Alex Andreopoulos ( / U U U / U U ), with the soaring assonance and symmetry, belongs, alas, to the team's full-time bullpen catcher. Toronto finishes a spunky but distant fifth in the race.
The AL Central looks to be set up for the Tigers to flourish, and since that's the team I listen to on the radio every day (if you want to know how baseball play-by-play is meant to be done, tune in online, wherever you are, to the Tigers broadcast to hear Dan Dickerson, the worthy successor to the late Ernie Harwell, spin a lyrical web of tension inning after inning. And his broadcast partner Jim Price, back-up catcher on the '68 Tiger champions—well, he grows on you), I already feel the surge of a team that won its first two games of the season with walk-off hits for the first time since 1901—which was the first year of existence for the Tigers and the American League. Sure, it hurts a bit that Miguel Cabrera's new contract now pays him more for each at-bat than I earn in a year—but hey, the guy just won two MVP's in a row and averages 130 RBI's a year—what have I done at the plate since getting strategically beaned against Watkins Glen High School in 1986 (take one for the team!)? The pitching staff is the strength here, but scansion reveals some problems: Max Scherzer is reigning Cy Young champ, but the meter ( / / U ) shows dissonance, as does the turning down of a long-term contract valued at around $26 million a year! The other two aces also have metrical downsides; the non-pareil Justin Verlander has that forced dactylic last name which I've always struggled with (Verlander as / U U, not U / U ), and Anibal Sanchez has the sprung rhythm in his first name (Anibal as U / U, not / U U )—it's all handled deftly by Dan Dickerson, but leaves the staff vulnerable this season. The bullpen also has question marks—Al Alburquerque's scansion is slighty off ( / / U / U ), like his magic slider was last year, and no one is feeling the rhythmic punch of the spondee when Phil Coke ( / / ) takes the hill. Even new manager Brad Ausmus just misses a crafty assonance in his surname (yes, he's the same age as me, but other than the Dartmouth education and the 20 or so years as an MLB catcher, what does he have that I don't also bring to my Little League squad—other than the 6 weeks Ausmus spent in Florida, while we've waited for snow-melt?). The Tigers, nevertheless, should be fine and win the division—but not in a landslide unless they call up the melodious (and slick- fielding) Eugenio Suarez ( U / U U / U -with five different assonant tones!).
The White Sox struggled last year (listen to Hawk Harrelson's radio call in the final inning of the final game last season, if you need a change from reading Kafka), and a scan of their roster shows why this season will be similar. Sure, the chiastic rhythm of fireplug outfielder Dayan Viciedo ( U / U U / U ) is a strong beginning, and the batting order is still anchored by Paul Konerko ( / U / U ), with the strident alliteration matching his enduring gap power. But the rest of the line-up is full of metrical near misses: Alejandro De Aza ( U U / U U / U ) lacks a syllable of completeness (though he torments the Tigers with a cruel OBP) and the 'a' assonance is a little off-timbre, while the pitching staff offers the dullish spondees of John Danks, Scott Downs, and Nate Jones. Even the lanky lefty ace Chris Sale can only add a hint of smooth alliteration to his spondee. Perhaps Nestor Molina ( / U U / U ) can offer some hoary counsel (stretching for an Iliad joke indicates the difficulties with this roster). Seventy-five wins might mark success this year.
The Indians surprised the Central last season with their fierce showing, and I see possibilities up and down the roster this season—middle-infield/middle-of-the-order stalwart Asdrubal Cabrera ( U / U U / U ) anchors everything, in prosody as in play, and pitcher Carlos Carrasco brings a triple-alliteration and double-assonance—but does he have an off-speed pitch?! There can be no doubt that of the value to this staff of C.C. Lee ( / / / )—a molossus on the mound! And though Justin Masterson ( / U / U U ) provides little metrical punch, he at least has all five short vowel sounds punctuating his name—as crisp and clipped as a cut fastball. And then there's Marc Rzepczynski—the consonantal juggernaut, Sir Scrabble-buster, coming out of the bullpen. This is a team that will compete late into September, especially if such trochaic types as Jason Kipnis and Michael Brantley ( / U / U) listen to the sage advice of their positive Homeric hitting coach, Ty "my last name is an ionic a majore" Van Burkleo ( / / U U )!
We have all suspected that thin times have come to the Twin Cities since the team abandoned the hideous but magical Metrodome for their beautiful but ill-starred new ball park. A glance at the roster's poetic patterns suggests that the dry spell will continue. The infield shows promise: Eduardo Escobar ( U / U / U /—okay, I forced the final stress a bit—an inexact science is in play!), Pedro Florimon ( / U / U /—here, the final stress is built into the pronunciation), and the mellifluous Trevor Plouffe ( / U /—here, an ineffable extension of the final syllable is invited) all offer pattern and promise. Even more pleasing is the pacing of OF Oswaldo Arcia ( U / U / U U—linger a bit on that 'ar' blend). But the pitching is slender, as embodied in the fact that the big off-season signing here is the bland spondee (and rather bland fastball) of Phil Hughes ( / / ). Message to the Twins: forsake all beauty and return to the Metrodome by mid-summer!
Kansas City has risen from the ashes of futility and looks good enough to contend—at least on paper. Let me clarify that: on paper that doesn't include the breves and grave accents of scansion. There are some compelling names in the infield, with Mediterranean strains of Johnny Giavotella, Mike Moustakas, and Danny Valencia—ah, that the Germanic tongues would value vowels that highly! For meter, the skipper Ned Yost ( / / ) offers a no-nonsense spondee, matched by ageless soft-tossing lefty Bruce Chen, whose straightforward name is in direct contradiction to his change-up-off-a-change-up shrewd 75 mph fadeaways. KC has better pitchers, certainly, but no names sing out. The saving throw for their pennant chances, thus, will come out of right-field, where the newly acquired speed and glove man Norichika Aoki ( U U / U U / U—and yes, that is a third paeon/amphibrach combination flying down the first-base line!). The Royals will take another step towards relevance this summer.
The AL West is somewhat out of my territory, so I looked at these rosters with a bit more demanding eye, for a sort of immediate metrical gratification. The Astros are unequivocally the worst team in baseball, but only by a syllable, I believe! Any team with two molossus players would seem to demand pennant consideration, and when I saw OF L.J. Hoes ( / / / ), hope sprang up. Only a freakish coincidence could thrust Houston into September relevance, and a glance at the extended spring pitching ranks showed the presence of Chia-Jen Lo ( / u / /—I include a small 'u' to stress how close this young, micro-payroll team came to winning the West this year!). As it now stands, only the quick metrical run of bullpen catcher Javier Bracamonte ( / U U U U / U – almost a beautiful parallelism, almost) assures the team of 65 wins.
What about the Angels (are they really officially called the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim!?)? The presence of Buddy Boshers on the pitching staff (albeit inactive) is hard to ignore, with the alliterative punch to back the double trochee, and, though his meter is a tad off, Dane De La Rosa ( / U U / U ) likewise catches the ear. Massive salaried sluggers Albert Pujols ( / U / U ) and Josh Hamilton (/ / U U) have some balance to their names, but nothing spectacular, which may prove prophetic for their struggles to sustain MVP-level power. In the outfield, Collin Cowgill sports the double trochee, but it's the brilliant double alliteration/double assonance that makes him a key figure, if he gets any playing time on the big club. J.B. Shuck ( / / / ) represents the crucial molossus, but it's the rock solid, no-nonsense spondee of Mike Trout ( / / ) that holds the key. The Angels rebound this season and challenge for the Western crown.
The A's have been dangerous underdogs the last few years, perhaps vindicating forevermore Billy Beane's "Moneyball" ways and means with their persistent small-market, low-payroll success. Can they sustain this for another year? From a metrical vantage point, the honeymoon may be over. No name on the pitching staff commands particular rhythmic attention—though Sonny Gray ( / U / ) offers a cretic foot, and a hint at the sonorous pre-WWII player names. On the infield, Alberto Callaspo ( U / U U / U ) provides the lilt of the double amphibrach, but Yoenis Cespedes ( U / U / U U ) just misses that sense of balance (though he rarely missed the offerings of the Tigers pitchers in the post-season last year!), so one is thrown back upon the rather slender qualifications of the two archetypal alliteratives on the team: C John Jaso and CF Coco Crisp. I see problems by August, unless of course Eric O'Flaherty ( / U U / U U—a double dactyl, pronounced with a bit of a brogue) comes off the 60-day disabled list ready to contribute. Let's take the rainout at the Coliseum in the first week of the season (the first in Oakland in 16 years!) as a portent.
With the Rangers, I didn't need to look further than their three catchers in camp this spring to see a strong potentiality: J. P. Arencibia ( / / U U / U U) provides a wonderfully chiastic surname as well as a lively bat, and Geovany Soto ( U U / U / U – with an assonance in both first and last names!) and Robinson Chirinos ( / U U / U U—welcome, double dactyl, and probably seasoning at Double-A) are intriguing as well. On the infield, Elvis Andrus ( / U / U ) sounds as smooth with the 's' endings as Jurickson Profar ( / U U / U ) sounds choppy with its harsh consonantal combinations—but both names and both players are interesting, though not always in a good way. Among the pitchers, Alexei Ogando ( U / U U / U) sweetens the double amphibrach with a bookend assonance on his last name—but his is one the few names on the staff that jump out. Were it not for Kevin Kouzmanoff's touch of alliteration, and the anchoring molossus of Shin-Soo Choo ( / / /—don't miss the alliteration, and the wonderful 'oo' assonance—this player brings it all!), things could get ugly in Arlington. Not even the addition of Prince Fielder's big lumber can stem the tide—I see the Rangers in trouble, maybe even a bit of turmoil, by Labor Day.
And suddenly my AL West cards are on the table—the Seattle Mariners will batter this division into submission! Sure, they've added the charmed bat of Robinson Cano ( / U U U /—a pattern as lovely as his left-handed cut with men on base!), but the real strength of this team emerges in pitchers Hisashi Iwakuma ( U / U U U / U—a pleasing pattern) and Bobby LaFromboise (if I'm superimposing a Gallic pronunciation, please bear with me, but I hear that surname as an overwrought declarative / / / !). What about catching prospect Jesus Sucre ( U / / U ), with that sonorous meter and the beautifully echoed syllable? And the sprung rhythm (forgive me, Hopkins, if I offend thee!) of Hector Noesi ( / U U U /—accentuation provided by the media guide, perhaps written by some intern/poetaster), combined with the Renaissance Humanist gloss of Erasmo Ramirez ( U / U U / U ), give the pitching staff depth. Likewise the '80's pop music echo with Corey Hart ( / U / ) and utterly mellifluous Xavier Avery (rhyme, assonance, alliteration, and the brilliant dactyls / U U / U U ) give Seattle traction into October!
The National League has always been on my periphery, and this forecast is already rambling (or some verbal well beyond that!), so I'll let things get a bit more impressionistic as I head to the senior circuit. "Out East," as they say in the Midwest, things are jumbled. The Braves look strong in almost every sphere, but with unexpected names leading the sonorous charge. Among the pitchers, Brandon Beachy offers the crucial alliteration, but Juan Jaime drifts a bit in the indigenous pronunciation. Wirfin Obispo is a study in phonetic contrasts from first name to last, but Julio Teheran ( / U U U U / ) spices this parabolic rhythm with a hint of political intrigue (kindred soul to Jello Biafra, perhaps?). Ultimately, the key pitching name is toiling at Triple-A Richmond, and he deserves a call-up: Atahualpa Severino (almost a double third paeon?! If I fudge the 'ua' diphthong a bit, tada! U U / U U U / U ). Among the position players, not much is of interest metrically, though Dan Uggla ( / / U) has perhaps the most aggressive single syllable in the league with his 'Ugg,' and the Upton brothers rhyme with each other in the outfield. In the end, the interests drift toward the literary, as IF Tyler Pastornicky and OF Joey Terdoslavich sound like they stepped out of a Gogol story. The Braves compete based on variety.
Spoiler alert: the Marlins are in first place as I write this—but will they endure there? Yes, but the key young pitcher is actually Arquimedes Caminero (the classical name matches the arcane meter, the elusive double third paeon U U / U U U / U ). Alongside the curt eloquence of Brad Hand ( / / ), the wide span of this staff becomes clear. And if Jarrod Saltalamacchia is catching regularly with his double dactyl surname, the staff ERA might be under 3.00! The team's bona-fide power hitter Giancarlo Stanton ( U U / U / U ) has a quirky pattern, but a nice pacing, and yet, it's the prospect of seeing Adeiny Hechavarria ( U / U U U / U U ) alongside Greg Dobbs ( / / ) on the infield. Miami matches Atlanta is variety, and in the Win column.
Ah, the Mets, the beloved team of my Long Island in-laws. (Have I spoken in years past about my wife's still unsent love letter to Ron Darling from the magical 1986 season? I still can't hear Darling's voice on the Fox post-season broadcasts without a rush of jealousy.) If they can put together the pitching spectrum of Vic Black's spondee ( / / ), Dillon Gee's cretic ( / U / ), and the revivified if erratic Daisuke Matsuzaka ( / U U U U / U ), then the Metropolitans show life through the dog days, especially with the sonorous possibilities of Travis d'Arnaud and Taylor Teagarden splitting time behind the plate. The infield has corner power from Ike Davis and David Wright, but the poetic cog there could be Josh Satin (with a smooth semi-alliteration). In the outfield, lots of strident scansion, but the key to my eye as a resident of West Michigan is the presence of two Dutch names: Matt den Dekker ( / / / U ) and Kirk Nieuwenhuis ( / / U / )—will the 350th anniversary (I'm guessing at that, but hey, I'm a homeschooling dad so I've done colonial history four times!) of the fall of New Amsterdam to the British result in a New York baseball resurgence?
The Phillies have potential, with a pitching staff that can mix and match the frank spondee of Cliff Lee ( / / ) with the double dactyl of Jonathan Pettibone ( / U U / U U ), and toss in the best natural amphibrach in the league with the surname of Antonio Bastardo! The rest of the roster is sketchy; they have names with residual creds in non-roster invitees Tony Gwynn, Jr. and John Mayberry, Jr. (but the Jr.'s mess up the meter), and the infield is full of names straight out of a P. G. Wodehouse novel, with Cody Asche, Freddy Galvis, and the venerable Chase Utley. But I don't see enough metrical variation to warrant 80 wins.
What about Washington—no, not the beleaguered and seemingly less and less relevant partisan bastions with the Beltway, but the Nationals. Things look solid, but a little bland, like skipper Matt Williams career with the Giants and his scansion ( / / U ). Not bad, but that same pattern is shared by half the team, it seems: Bryce Harper, Scott Hairston, Drew Storen, Craig Stammen, even former Tiger hurler Doug Fister. Ace Stephen Strasburg ( / U / U ) at least brings double trochees, but they seem, for lack of a better analogy, awfully hittable! The Zimmerman(n) boys, P Jordan (double 'n') and 3B Ryan (single 'n') at least have a dactylic surname, but this is a stretch. This team will struggle with mediocrity, unless an amphibrachic call-up arrives.
The NL Central has been Cardinal country for a while, but I sense a sea-change. St. Louis always seems to overachieve in the stretch run, so I can't write them off completely, but there is a sharp lack of metrical variation on the pitching staff, and in terms of the ear attuned to literary resonances, a set of names like Keith Butler, Lance Lynn (granted, a nice spondee), Shelby Miller, and Randy Choate seem to more akin to the headliners at a Country Western festival. Granted, the infield is full of consonantal punch, with Aledmys Diaz, Pete Kozma, and Kolten Wong (though only Daniel Descalso brings the alliterative with metrical punch: / U U / U ). Now, if Xavier Scruggs gets the call-up and sticks with the big club, you have a phonetic juggernaut evolving. But Jon Jay is a minimalist denouement in the outfield, a sort of Art Nouveau gesture to go alongside Man Ray … but I digress. The Cardinals run into trouble after the All Star Break and scratch towards the Wild Card(s).
The Reds have been competitive of late, with strong pitching and a frisky batting order anchored by double trochee stalwarts Joey Votto and Brandon Phillips. A bit more swagger is added, at least metrically, by Jack Hanahan ( / / U / ) and Skip Schumaker (of matching rhythm) across the infield, and if Juan Duran (yes, if only he'd double the surname! ) gets called-up to the outfield, all may be well. But the pitching staff is a bit more shaky this time around, not only because of the tragic head-shot that Aroldis Chapman took this spring from a batted ball, but also because, other than the pedestrian spondee from Mike Leake, the most interesting prospect is Sam LeCure, whose name connotes perhaps a noir novel or punk rock frontman. Trouble in Cincy, and I think not even the addition of blue-blooded outfield prospect Jason Bourgeois ( / U U /—I'm pronouncing in the Marxian fashion) at mid-summer can solve the problem.
The Brewers in the National League—it still takes a minute to sink in, as I hear the radio call of my boyhood, Phil Rizzuto and Bill White doing the Yankee games, speaking of the feared Pete Vukovich (/ / U U, or would it be / / U /?) on the mound for the Brew Crew, or that particular Yankee-killer, Moose Haas ( / /—a spondee with double double vowels, and that 's' alliteration—no wonder he owned Graig Nettles!). The 2014 version has some metrical character, to be sure, with a pitching staff ranging from the lilting Tom Gorzelanny ( / U U / U ) and his metrical double Wily Peralta, to the strident power of Johnny Hellweg ( / U / U ) and Wei-Chung Wang ( / / /, the molossus adding 3 mph to the heater). And who would not be intimidated to face hurlers with surnames like those of Michael Blazek and Mike Fiers. But alas, the everyday players on the roster don't sustain this intrigue—Ryan Braun ( / U / ) is a rather ho-hum cretic, a foot that Rickie Weeks ennobles only slightly more. Maybe a call-up of catching prospect, and legitimate triple trochee Adam Weisenberger ( / U / U / U ) can push this team into contention, but the summer looks long for the men in mustard and powder blue (am I thinking the 1982 throwback unis?).
The Pirates are finally good again, and one would have to be hard-hearted not to root for them a bit these days after the 20 years of darkness. But as I scanned their roster to see if sustained greatness is in the offing, the prognosis was uncertain. There must be something to a pitching staff boasting such phonetic models as Vin Mazzaro ( / U / U ) and Wandy Rodriguez ( / U U / U—okay, maybe I just like the throwback sense of 'Wandy'—does anyone here Gabby Harnett echoing forth? Or a hint of the great Negro Leaguer Judy Johnson?). But I can't quite get the rhythm of Stolmy Pimentel (sounds like a James Bond character) or Joely Rodriguez, and so I wonder. On the other side of the clubhouse, among the position players, there's also a bit of phonetic fog—Neil Walker is a crucial power source for the team, but the name 'Neil' is one of those syllable-and-a-half confounders. Likewise, perennial All-Star Andrew McCutcheon has such a pithy nickname in Cutch, that the possibility of scanning his whole given name evenly is flung out the window. 'Picky, picky,' you may say to me, but are you reassured by the flat spondee of Clint Barmes at 3B? The outfield is enhanced by the sonorous presence of Starling Marte ( / U / U ), but only allusively so. A lot hinges, thus, on the coaching staff under Clint Hurdle (himself a tongue-fumbling bit to pronounce), and here the Pirates find their hope, as many teams have, in their bullpen catcher, the doubly amphibrachic Herberto Andrade ( U / U U / U ). Double or nothing with the bullpen, not just because the Pirates have arguably the best group of relievers in the majors, but because Andrade is joined in his 'exile' by bullpen coach Euclides Rojas ( U / U / U ), whose name wins the I.Q. award and helps the Pirates pitch their way towards October.
But the Cubs remain, always the bridesmaid (or perhaps the wayward uncle who gets invited only by a late and guilty phone call, and who arrives late and tipsy to the wedding ceremony). And when the two catchers on the roster are the consonantally rich Welington Castillo ( / U U U / U ) and George Kottaras ( / U / U— a name that sounds worthy to block the plate, if that were still allowed), something might be brewing at Wrigley. The infield is anchored by the gifted SS Starlin Castro, with his double trochee and triple alliteration, but the real intrigue occurs in contrast between the tight spondee of Mike Olt ( / / ) and the sprawling paeons of prospect Arismendy Alcantara ( U U / U U U / U—a name worthy of a roster spot, a signing bonus, and even a raucous set of devotees among the Bleacher Bums. What about the pitching? Well, the intimidation factor could and should be there, if either Justin Grimm or Pedro Strop stick with the squad, with their heavily accented and ominously allusive surnames. But the literal and alliterative key to Chicago's season is the erstwhile Notre Dame wideout and talented young gun Jeff Samardzija ( / U / U—a common enough scansion, but a priceless final syllable with 'dzija'—maybe worth 18 wins?!). If the front office has any Theo Epstein (sonorous vowels) magic left in the bottle, I believe the promotion of OF prospect Matthew Szczur to the big club is the key to unlocking Samardzija's potential—and one either grins or shudders to think of the pronunciation adventures if Harry Carey were still in the booth. It all adds up to a surprisingly competitive Cubs team playing within the ivy this summer, and maybe this fall.
Go west, young fans, though this has always been a hard psychic journey for me. The NL West is the 'distant country' to my imagination, so I feel like Keats with his Chapman's Iliad, glancing at these rosters like new planets swimming into my ken. The D'Backs have jet-lag and are 1-7 as of this writing, having gone 'Down Under' with the Dodgers to officially open the season a few weeks back. They've not yet recovered, and the first managerial hot-seat of the year already belongs to Kirk Gibson. But I think Gibby's battlers will be back—what else could one believe when Tuffy Gosewich ( / U / U /—a meter and a name worthy of a John McGraw team!) is behind the plate catching the likes of J. J. Putz ( / / /—a molossus to shut down righties and lefties in the late innings) and Bo Schultz ( / /—again, an echo of the days when the Philadelphia A's reigned). Toss in the forthright power numbers of Paul Goldschmidt and Mark Trumbo ( with their matching and blunt / / U ) and the medieval vigor of Didi Gregorius ( / / U / U U—three 'i's' giving the long 'e' sound!), and Arizona reappears in September in the hunt for the trail-end wildcard.
Will the Rockies rise again to mile-high prominence? A good start is in the skipper's office, as the immediacy of the alliterative, spondaic punch that Walt Weiss brings (backed on his coaching staff by fellow spondees Jim Wright and Stu Cole) keeps this team hustling and scratching. How could a team lead by uber-shortstop Troy Tulowitzki ( / u / U / U—'Troy' is one of those elusive syllables, but the scansion only tells half the story) and his alliterative balance possibly finish in last place? That's seems a foolish thought, if one adds in the ageless LaTroy Hawkins ( U / / U) and the regally named Christian Friedrich ( / U / U—these are Hapsburg trochees, sir!) on the pitching staff. And what about hurler Jhoulys Chacin (not sure I can scan this name—indicative of a disappearing slider?)? Colorado will win 50 games in its thin-aired den, but struggle on the road and finish around .500.
The Padres have an improved roster, in baseball terms, with newcomer Joaquin Benoit ( almost scans as 4 equal stresses, and produces 2 'w' sounds with no 'w'—all very fascinating, but don't mention the name David Ortiz or the word 'grand slam' to him!) and solid starters in Josh Johnson and Ian Kennedy, but the only metrical twist on the staff is the flat spondee of Burch Smith. The position players offer something more, and here the 'Y's have it'—as in Yasmani Grandal catching ( U / U U /—nice pause and pacing with the 'a' sounds), Yonder Alonso ( / U U / U—great short 'o' pairing) on the infield, and long-shot, don't-leave-him-in-Triple-A Yeison Ascencio on the ascent among the stable of outfielders. Former Tiger farmhand Cameron Maybin ( / U U / U) provides further lyrical punch in center, but Seth Smith is something of a plodding addition out there with his thick spondee. But his new skipper Bud Black suffers a similar metrical malady. I say the Padres fade early but play spoilers late.
Can the Giants maintain their recent trajectory into the upper-echelons of baseball success? Well, it's hard to stay on top of the mountain, ye Candlestickers! The pitching is not bad, though Matt Cain's spondee has been diminished in rhetorical strength so far this young season. But Madison Bumgarner ( / U U / U U—the coveted double dactyl ) is joined by the lyrical trio of Jean Machi ( / U / ), Yusmeiro Petit ( U / U U / ), and, of course, Sergio Romo ( / U U / U ). Indeed, the infield has a particularly alliterative charm, if one attends the ear to Brandon Belt, Pablo Sandoval ( the 'l' echo is weak, but the Panda also has the long 'o' working), and Marco Scutaro (multiple shades of sound play). But I think prospect Ehire Adrianza ( U / U U U / U ) and his brilliant scanned pattern must contribute by mid-season. Likewise, no outfield manned by Angel Pagan ( sprung rhythm creates / U U / pattern) should underachieve—so I put the Giants in the hunt.
That leaves the Dodgers, last in my long exercise in obscurantist anticipation, but first in the news as this season begins. Certainly, Clayton Kershaw's astronomical contract (and ominously immediate trip to the DL—a curse on that Australia trip!) and Yasiel Puig's benching for juvenile behavior (but not for his wonderful / U U / rhythm, nor, one hopes, for his joie de vivre in the uptight world of baseball's 'codes') have been big stories, but this all masks a rather thin metrical presence, which is why skipper Don Mattingly almost lost his job last year (and each year I mention my fealty to Donnie Baseball, my model for all things baseball while I was in high school in Yankees country—but why in the Dodger blue now, Sensai, and why mustache-less?!). Sure, Andre Ethier ( / U / U U ) offers a subtle vowel play, and starter Hyun-Jin Ryu ( / / / ) brings that coveted triple stress, but slugger Adrian Gonzalez ( / U U U / U ) is just a bit off rhythmically, and Matt Kemp's spondaic star is dulled by nagging injury. So, my advice is simple—activate Erisbel Arruebarrena (one could go on the DL just trying to scan this name! My guess is a reckless light run of U / U U U U U / U ) and ride that scintillating, Yeatsian touch (cf. "as twere an apparition" U U U U U / U from "The Living Beauty") to the divisional crown and beyond!
To the postseason, after a survey that has felt as long as an August with no off days! The AL shakes down as follows: Baltimore runs away and hides in the East, though Boston, NYY, and Tampa keep the wildcard conversation interesting. Yet, only the Yankees make it in, as the noble (though increasingly stoical—that's what 40 does to you!) Jeter puts together 10 hits in the final week, to slide into #6 on the all-time hits list—and everyone above him is firmly in Valhalla. In the Central, the Tigers try to hide a vulnerable bullpen all summer (again!) and feel the Indians chugging along behind them in September, but the Royals rough up Cleveland at season's end, the Tigers sweep Minnesota and Chicago to finish, and it's Detroit with the crown and KC with a (gulp!) postseason berth at last! Come forth, ye shades of George Brett and Darryl Motley! Out west, Seattle rides the wave of enthusiasm evoked by the Seahawks, and the Mariners push 100 wins with ease, as an ugly dogfight in the second-level of the division finds the Angels gnawing on the Rangers. The teams will both lay dormant beneath bloated payrolls, and October will forsake them. So, a one-game wildcard tilt in Kansas City sees the Yankees fall to their nemesis from my childhood days, and so the Tigers get the Orioles and the Royals head to Seattle, and the AL Central fares poorly—the Orioles get into the Tigers bullpen consistently, and even a healthy Miguel Cabrera can't save the ship. Likewise, KC gets chewed up by Seattle's starters, as Felix Hernandez finally gets to show his stuff in primetime, and Danny Farquhar emerges like his namesake, the ghostly protagonist of "An Incident at Owl Creek Bridge," spectral and unhittable. The Mariners and the Orioles tilt for the AL Crown in a trans-continental matchup on late '90's power-brokers.
Let's pause there, and scout out the NL scene in early October. The East Division will find the Braves and Marlins tied as the season closes, and hence a one-game playoff, with everything at stake (no wildcard back-up plan will be available). Jose Fernandez ( U / U / U ) pits Miami's mellifluous youth against Ervin Santana's ( / U U / U ) veteran wiles, and age prevails (I say it with a sigh). The Braves are once again in business! In the Central, the Cubs and Pirates battle like it's 1972, and though the Pirates prevail, the Cubs sneak into wildcard-land, where they meet the once-dead Diamondbacks, revivified by the clean desert air and sign-stealing prowess of third-base coach Glenn Sherlock (did I mention my own desperate linguistic stretch run?!). Though the Dodgers cake-walk to the divisional title out west, Kershaw's back gets sore again, and anxiety hovers over Chavez Ravine. Then, a series of lightning bolts comparable to Wilfred Owen's WWI prosodic blasts ("The stained-stones kissed by the English dead" offers the overwhelming U / / / U U / U / ) strike across the National League landscape. The Cubs beat the D-Backs in Arizona, fly to LA and sweep the Dodgers. Meanwhile, the Pirates finally unleash their 20 years of vengeful brooding against Atlanta (those '91 and '92 NLCS shamings cut deep—Sid Bream's dash to immortality?!), pounding the Braves mercilessly in the divisional round, and returning home to host the red-hot Cubs.
At this point, with the League Championship Series games stirring in Pittsburgh and in Seattle, with the miracle Cubs and the hungry Orioles ready to challenge for hegemony, a final glance into the dark corners of each team's roster is needed, and as you may have guessed, a casual scansion of each team's first base coach will decide the two pennants. First, the Orioles offer up Wayne Kirby ( / / U ), a solid, not-so-dynamic presence (as a first base coach should be), but Seattle has the edge with Andy Van Slyke ( / U / /—the final two stresses separated by the slightest pause, a significant subtlety—plus Van Slyke was born in Utica, NY, hometown of '91 World Series immortal Mark Lemke, and, coincidentally, my older brother and his wife and 6 baseball-crazed kids). The Mariners, at long last, are heading to the World Series, taking the ALCS easily in 5 games. In the NL, the Pirates trot out Rick Sofield (again / / U, approximately) to the coaches' box, while the Cubs have, drumroll please … Eric Hinske ( / U / U—with a bit more sound play in the 'c/k' echo). So I should argue for a Cubs victory, but I cannot—the Pirates take the series in 7 games, as Hinske is struck by a foul ball and the default to third base coach Gary Jones creates a poetic void. Wait until next year, Cub fans—or install Matt Szczur as your first-base coach straight out of Double-A ball!
This World Series is suddenly and unexpectedly about Lloyd McClendon ( /—a long single syllable, full of character—U / U ), recently released as Tigers batting coach, but once the skipper of the Pirates and now leading the Mariners against his old team. Strong pitching on both sides. Superb old-school players like Robinson Cano and Andrew McCutcheon matched up. Great sports cities—didn't the Seahawks and Steelers just mix it up in the Super Bowl a few years back? The rosters have already been squeezed dry of poetic invention and linguistic frippery—what's left to judge? An unexpected pitching match-up between Seattle's Lucas Luetge and Pittsburgh's Duke Welker (weigh the relative alliteration and assonance, and it's an even heat)? How about special assistants, that vague title given in baseball to a trouble-shooting coach/advisor/sometime-player deserving of a job? Here perhaps is the final grain that will tip the scale. The Mariners bring the classic special assistant, former middle-of-the-order-in-the-mediocre-days 1B Alvin Davis ( / U / U—strong sound-play underlying a seemingly simple name) against the Pirates' Frank Kemblas ( / / U—the doubling of the 'k' sound leads to a quiet finale). Dead heat. One option is left—the past beckons, and I hear the double amphibrach roaring around second base, and coming up firing from deep right field. Yes, Roberto Clemente (an absolute and deliberate U / U U / U) challenges anything the Mariners can summon from their 37 year history—Ken Griffey, Jr. ( / / U / U ) was thrilling, but defected and ended badly. Bret Boone gave a window of thrills as brief as his spondaic burst. What does Danny Ainge ( / U / )bring to the game—mere flirtation. I think it's over, decided, the long drought since 1979's "We are Family" and the sharp poetry of Kent Tekulve ( / U / U )—the Pirates are World Champions in a 6 game rough-up of the Mariners. Clint Hurdle has leaped his final one to achieve eternal renown. Jose Tabata ( U / / U U ) brings his sprung rhythm and sonorous soft 'a' sounds to the plate and drives home Brent Morel in the bottom of the ninth at PNC Park, and the moral of the story is: never give up on a franchise, nor the possibility of prosody.
Michael R. Stevens is professor of English at Cornerstone University in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
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