Baseball Oafs and Baseball Monsters

On the PosCast this week, Mike (and I) introduce the concept of Baseball Oafs and Baseball Monsters. You really should listen to the thing if you want to understand because, frankly, it’s not super easy to explain … but the main idea is that baseball is now filled with these giant players who mash impossibly long home runs, and we have decided they need to separate into “Baseball Oafs” and “Baseball Monsters.”

There are also “Baseball Bulls” and “Baseball Mookies,” but we can’t get into everything here.

As I understand it, the big difference between Baseball Oafs and Baseball Monsters — both of which are awesome, by the way — is the body shape and general aura. Baseball Oafs are lovable beasts who hit long home runs and then seem entirely ready to join your backyard barbecue. I’d put it this way: You could imagine a Baseball Oaf wearing a “Kiss me, I’m the Chef” apron. Jim Thome is the patron saint of Baseball Oafs.

And a Baseball Monster is a Terminator-like force — a Baseball Monster could be a perfectly lovely person, but the vibes they give off are of danger. Shohei is a Baseball Monster. Judge is a Baseball Monster.

And Oneil Cruz might be the biggest Baseball Monster of them all.

Cruz is not a great baseball player, yet. He’s not even an All-Star. He has the quickest bat in baseball, but he’s only hitting .212 and striking out at a higher percentage than any non-Rockie in the game.* He’s a preposterous athlete with a rocket arm, but the Pirates still have not found a defensive position for him.

*Colorado’s remarkable Michael Toglia — who has struck out 116 times in just 276 at-bats — is having a whiff season for the ages.

But when it comes to doing absurd things, I don’t think anyone — not even Judge and Shohei — are up there with Cruz. He’s basically unlimited. He unloaded the hardest-hit home run of the Statcast Era. He unleashed a 105.2 mph throw just a couple of weeks ago.

And on Monday, in the Home Run Derby, he hit a 513-foot home run.

In the end, Cal Raleigh technically won the Home Run Derby — more on this in a minute — but I’m sorry, Oneil Cruz hit a 513-foot home run. He won everything.

Well, actually, before I give you my idea for the Home Run Derby … I found a story I wrote back in 2008 after that crazy Home Run Derby where Josh Hamilton hit an incredible 28 home runs in the first round — one of the greatest exhibitions of power we’ve ever seen — but ended up losing the Derby Justin Morneau outhomered him in the final round 5 to 3.

Here’s what I wrote:

Lajong Wins Derby; Hobbs Sore Loser

By Max Mercy

NEW YORK — Emil “Frenchie” Lajong, a player New York Knights scout Scotty Carson found while vacationing in Canada, won the Home Run Derby yesterday afternoon by clouting two glorious round trippers in the final round on a sun-dappled afternoon in the big city. Lajong defeated his forlorn teammate Roy Hobbs, who managed only one home run in the final round, this after hitting 383 home runs in the first round.

“I thought ze Derby was never to end,” Lajong said. “I mean, what was zat, eh, six hours? I fell asleep two times. Roy kept hitting zem out. I guess he, how you say, tuckered out.”

Hobbs knocked the cover off of 12 balls, smashed two light towers, knocked out three sportswriters (but continuously missed your humble correspondent — work on that aim, Roy!), and cracked 19 car windshields. He did unwittingly admit afterward that he was not entirely in command of the Home Run Derby rules.

“Are you telling me all those home runs I hit earlier don’t even count?” he asked afterward. “I mean, hey, congratulations to Emil and all, but he hit like three home runs the whole day. I hit that many over the D Train. Are you telling me I didn’t win?”

That is indeed what they were telling him, and the slugger from nowhere was not happy to hear that he would not get the $500 bonus put up by the Judge. Instead, that money will go to Lajong, who said that he felt bad for Hobbs but added that he could use the extra dough.

Lajong advanced to the final by hitting one home run in the first round. It seemed unlikely that would be enough to advance him, especially with home run killers like Slugger Kompulski, Jumbo Johannessen, and Muscles Marmaduke due up. But they would never get the chance to step into the box because Hobbs hit next, and he hit home runs for the next two hours and 43 minutes. Officials twice ran out of baseballs. The first time, they made an announcement to the fans asking them to please throw their baseballs back on the field. And since there were numerous Chicagoans in the stands, many did. The second time they ran out, your humble correspondent was sent to a local Dick’s Sporting Goods to buy another bag’s worth (which, not incidentally, cost a fortune, and there has yet to be reimbursement) while a visiting party of league officials and ESPN executives was sent to try and convince Hobbs to stop hitting home runs. Hardheaded Hobbs refused.

“Is this a home run derby or isn’t it?” he reportedly asked. “I was told to hit home runs, and by golly, I’m gonna hit ‘em. I didn’t carve my own bat out of the tree hit by lightning to lie down for anybody.”

Finally, after Hobbs’ 383rd home run and with no end in sight, the baseball commissioner, George Scheitinger, announced that Chris Berman had given him such a headache that he was terminating the first round. Many cheered. His Royal Baseballness pronounced that the contest would move to the final, with Lajong and Hobbs to do battle.

Only Kompulski among the home run combatants complained about the unfair ruling, however, because Johannessen and Marmaduke had left the stadium hours earlier.

In the final, Lajong batted first, and he managed a pop fly off the left-field foul pole on his first swing. After nine outs, he punched a ball down the right field line that probably sliced foul, but the umpires, perhaps weary and exhausted by Hobbs’ display and possibly feeling some pity for the little French-Canadian, called it a home run.

Then, Hobbs stepped into the batter’s box, and on his first swing, he hit a ball that lodged into the overhang of the Yankee Stadium third deck. It remains there; several stadium crew members were not able to dislodge it even using a screwdriver and a can of WD-40.

Then, Hobbs swung and missed the next nine pitches. He seemed to do this on purpose, he would later say he did this to add some drama (though it was noticed that known gambler Gus Sands was watching very closely). And then, with one out left with which to win the Derby, Hobbs dug in his cleats, spat on his hands, and readied himself. Just before the pitch was thrown, a woman in a black dress stood up, and Hobbs blew a kiss to her. Mighty Roy then swung ferociously and missed entirely, ending the Home Run Derby and giving the title to LaJong.

“I think the rules are the bunk,” the sore loser said afterward, and he raced off with the woman in the black dress.

Here it is: I think the Derby should come down to a fan vote.

While watching ESPN’s numbing coverage of home run after home run after home run, I started thinking that the problem with the Derby is that we shouldn’t just be counting the home runs, as if they’re all the same, as if it’s the NUMBER of home runs that matters most.

No, we should view each Home Run Derby round as a performance, much like a figure skating performance, a gymnastics floor exercise, or an America’s Got Talent presentation. And then we should let the fans vote for who they think won the round, regardless of the number of home runs they hit.

I like this for multiple reasons: One, it gives power to the fans, and the All-Star Game is supposed to be for the fans. That’s always been the point of the thing.

Two, it makes the Derby less about the math and more about the art of hitting homers. I appreciate Cal Raleigh as much as anyone, but did he really WIN the Home Run Derby? Did he have the most memorable night? Heck, he made it out of the first round by less than an inch — literally. His longest home run (470.62 feet) was measured as .96 inches longer than Brent Rooker’s longest home run (470.54 feet), and I’m skeptical that even Statcast can be THAT precise, and anyway it doesn’t matter because all anyone will remember from this Derby (if they remember anything) it’s Oneil Cruz’s 513-foot blast.

Three, it would allow them to slow the Derby down a bit, make it a bit more fun for the television viewer. The way it went on Monday, Cruz’s 513-bomb was barely noticed because the next pitch came one second after he hit it. If Rob Manfred wants to give me a call, I’m sure we at JoeBlogs could come up with 100 ways to make the Derby more television-friendly and perfect for an instant fan vote.

Now, would the fan vote lead to some terrible choices? Of course! Fans might pick their favorite players regardless of how they performed. Guys who hit more home runs than their opponents might get knocked out. There might be some chaos. But, first of all, I’ll bet the fans will pick the obvious winner almost every time.

Beyond that, you know what? Who cares? This is a fake event meant purely for joy, and if the fans want to see Shohei Ohtani advance, or if they want to give Oneil Cruz double credit for hit titanic shot, or if they want to think Cal Raleigh was just more joyful than Brent Rooker, I mean, like I say, this is supposed to be for the fans.

I love a good K-spelling. We do that here with Kathleen’s Korner every day — but I appreciate it every time I see a Kountry Kitchen or a Klean Kars wash or a Kookie Kutterz bakery (obviously Krispy Kreme is the king of the klass).

This year’s MLB Draft has been K-filled. I mean, you had Kade Anderson going with the third pick and in short order, teams drafted a Kyson (Witherspoon), a Kayson (Cuningham) a Kruz (Schoolcraft!).

In all, I’m kounting 21 different K names taken so far. They include:

I’m looking forward to the day when every player in baseball has a name that starts with K.