Re: Articles
Posted: Thu Dec 20, 2018 11:03 am
No one deserved a championship experience in Cleveland more than Michael Brantley
Zack Meisel 55m ago 5
CLEVELAND — For a long time, Michael Brantley’s story read like a Hollywood script. The plucky prospect, dealt to Cleveland because of a stroke of fortune, developed into the face of the franchise while overcoming obstacles along the way.
The Indians could have landed Taylor Green as the final piece of the CC Sabathia trade in 2008. Then, the club would have had next to nothing to show for that trade. Green totaled 154 big-league plate appearances; Matt LaPorta, the centerpiece of the swap, took his last major-league hacks 2,271 days ago.
Instead, they received Brantley as the player to be named later, based on the condition of the Brewers reaching the postseason. At first, Brantley seemed like a solid, unspectacular outfielder. He could hit a little, run a little, defend a little. Then, he morphed into one of the league’s most dependable hitters, slapping singles and doubles to all nooks of the field and eventually adding a splash of power to his repertoire. Brantley became an MVP finalist, a No. 3 hitter, a guy who struck out as often as a Halley’s Comet sighting. His smooth and steady swing stood out between lineup potholes like Nick Swisher, Michael Bourn and Brandon Moss.
It was easy to see why fans gravitated toward him. He always said the right things, earning himself the nickname Captain Cliché from beat writers for his penchant to resort to whatever convenient turn of phrase fit the question. (And he’d always grin while supplying it; he knew he was giving us nothing.)
But when the team finally took the next step, a foray into contention, Brantley’s fortune soured. First, his shoulder. Then, his shoulder again. And again. And again. Then, his ankle.
When the Indians captured their first division title in nine years in 2016, Brantley watched the champagne chaos from the hallway outside of the visitors’ clubhouse at Comerica Park. As his teammates soaked each other with bubbly two weeks later in Boston, he stood at his locker and ate steak and mashed potatoes.
It pained him to be a spectator for that World Series run. He should have been out there, contributing to a team aiming to break a title hex that dates to the Truman Administration.
But this Hollywood script never promised a happy ending.
An ankle injury sapped Brantley of a strong finish to an All-Star season in 2017, and he played a minimal role in an ALDS loss to the Yankees. A year later, the Indians exited October with barely a whimper.
Now, Brantley is a member of the Astros, the team that kicked Cleveland to the curb two months ago.
The day after the Indians were eliminated, Brantley met with Terry Francona and Chris Antonetti for his customary exit interview. Tears flowed. There were hugs. The writing was on the wall. Barring some unexpected change in plans, Brantley’s decade-long tenure in Cleveland had come to an untimely end.
After the Game 3 loss to Houston, a group of veterans, including Jason Kipnis, Josh Tomlin and Yan Gomes, congregated in the corner of the clubhouse, right in front of Brantley’s locker, for one, final postgame chat. They could sense change was coming.
The Indians have saved somewhere in the neighborhood of $21.5 million from their three trades in the past three weeks. That’s fine and dandy, but the roster still requires significant maintenance. This isn’t “your front right tire could use a little bit of air,” either; this is “your front and rear bumpers are dragging on the ground and you have no windshield, how were you even driving this, this can’t possibly be legal.”
Brantley might be best suited to play first base at this point in his career (though the tiny surface area of left field at Minute Maid Park doesn’t demand much range), so anyone who wants to argue he wasn’t worth $32 million over two years for the Tribe has a right to do so. Really, the gut-punch for the Indians is that he signed with the team that bounced them from the postseason. And it’s that the outfield group left behind — some mix of Leonys Martín, Jordan Luplow, Tyler Naquin, Greg Allen, Kipnis, Grady Sizemore, Chris Magruder and the portly man dressing as Santa at SouthPark Mall — needs assistance in the worst way.
It is December in another slowly evolving offseason, but those savings need to be distributed to some free agents or trade acquisitions who can plug the rising number of holes on the roster. Have they shed enough salary to sprinkle some cash on an outfielder (or two), a reliever (or three), a third baseman and, perhaps, a catcher? Probably not. A trade of a starting pitcher might still make sense, provided they receive the king’s ransom in return that they have requested in their conversations with other teams.
Either way, the roster is changing. The old guard is gone. Francisco Lindor and José Ramírez need some lineup support. The man who hit between them last season has trekked south in his search for a ring.
It’s an anticlimactic exit for a guy who deserved a storybook ending in Cleveland.
(Photo of Michael Brantley: Scott R. Galvin / USA Today Sports)
Zack Meisel 55m ago 5
CLEVELAND — For a long time, Michael Brantley’s story read like a Hollywood script. The plucky prospect, dealt to Cleveland because of a stroke of fortune, developed into the face of the franchise while overcoming obstacles along the way.
The Indians could have landed Taylor Green as the final piece of the CC Sabathia trade in 2008. Then, the club would have had next to nothing to show for that trade. Green totaled 154 big-league plate appearances; Matt LaPorta, the centerpiece of the swap, took his last major-league hacks 2,271 days ago.
Instead, they received Brantley as the player to be named later, based on the condition of the Brewers reaching the postseason. At first, Brantley seemed like a solid, unspectacular outfielder. He could hit a little, run a little, defend a little. Then, he morphed into one of the league’s most dependable hitters, slapping singles and doubles to all nooks of the field and eventually adding a splash of power to his repertoire. Brantley became an MVP finalist, a No. 3 hitter, a guy who struck out as often as a Halley’s Comet sighting. His smooth and steady swing stood out between lineup potholes like Nick Swisher, Michael Bourn and Brandon Moss.
It was easy to see why fans gravitated toward him. He always said the right things, earning himself the nickname Captain Cliché from beat writers for his penchant to resort to whatever convenient turn of phrase fit the question. (And he’d always grin while supplying it; he knew he was giving us nothing.)
But when the team finally took the next step, a foray into contention, Brantley’s fortune soured. First, his shoulder. Then, his shoulder again. And again. And again. Then, his ankle.
When the Indians captured their first division title in nine years in 2016, Brantley watched the champagne chaos from the hallway outside of the visitors’ clubhouse at Comerica Park. As his teammates soaked each other with bubbly two weeks later in Boston, he stood at his locker and ate steak and mashed potatoes.
It pained him to be a spectator for that World Series run. He should have been out there, contributing to a team aiming to break a title hex that dates to the Truman Administration.
But this Hollywood script never promised a happy ending.
An ankle injury sapped Brantley of a strong finish to an All-Star season in 2017, and he played a minimal role in an ALDS loss to the Yankees. A year later, the Indians exited October with barely a whimper.
Now, Brantley is a member of the Astros, the team that kicked Cleveland to the curb two months ago.
The day after the Indians were eliminated, Brantley met with Terry Francona and Chris Antonetti for his customary exit interview. Tears flowed. There were hugs. The writing was on the wall. Barring some unexpected change in plans, Brantley’s decade-long tenure in Cleveland had come to an untimely end.
After the Game 3 loss to Houston, a group of veterans, including Jason Kipnis, Josh Tomlin and Yan Gomes, congregated in the corner of the clubhouse, right in front of Brantley’s locker, for one, final postgame chat. They could sense change was coming.
The Indians have saved somewhere in the neighborhood of $21.5 million from their three trades in the past three weeks. That’s fine and dandy, but the roster still requires significant maintenance. This isn’t “your front right tire could use a little bit of air,” either; this is “your front and rear bumpers are dragging on the ground and you have no windshield, how were you even driving this, this can’t possibly be legal.”
Brantley might be best suited to play first base at this point in his career (though the tiny surface area of left field at Minute Maid Park doesn’t demand much range), so anyone who wants to argue he wasn’t worth $32 million over two years for the Tribe has a right to do so. Really, the gut-punch for the Indians is that he signed with the team that bounced them from the postseason. And it’s that the outfield group left behind — some mix of Leonys Martín, Jordan Luplow, Tyler Naquin, Greg Allen, Kipnis, Grady Sizemore, Chris Magruder and the portly man dressing as Santa at SouthPark Mall — needs assistance in the worst way.
It is December in another slowly evolving offseason, but those savings need to be distributed to some free agents or trade acquisitions who can plug the rising number of holes on the roster. Have they shed enough salary to sprinkle some cash on an outfielder (or two), a reliever (or three), a third baseman and, perhaps, a catcher? Probably not. A trade of a starting pitcher might still make sense, provided they receive the king’s ransom in return that they have requested in their conversations with other teams.
Either way, the roster is changing. The old guard is gone. Francisco Lindor and José Ramírez need some lineup support. The man who hit between them last season has trekked south in his search for a ring.
It’s an anticlimactic exit for a guy who deserved a storybook ending in Cleveland.
(Photo of Michael Brantley: Scott R. Galvin / USA Today Sports)