The New York Times reports that the Yankees may be willing to trade catcher Jorge Posada in an effort to lower payroll. Despite being the top-hitting catcher in the American League in 2002, Posada is potentially expendable. Of the five players the Yanks have signed to weighty long-term contracts (Jason Giambi, Derek Jeter, Mike Mussina and Bernie Williams are the others), Hip Hip Jorge is the only one without a no-trade clause. With a substantial payroll tax headed the Yanks' way (courtesy of the new Collective Bargaining Agreement), dealing Posada is one very obvious opportunity to cut costs.
Yankee GM Brian Cashman downplays the Posada trade rumors: "I'm certainly open to listening, but if someone wants to inquire about him, they'd better come with frankincense and myrrh and make me an offer I can't refuse. He's obviously one of the best at his position in the game. Is it realistic that we'd end up trading him? No. If he ever is moved, it would be at a steep price."
Posada brings many positives to the table; he's a switch-hitter with a high on-base percentage (.370 last season) and plenty of power (.468 slugging percentage, 40 doubles and 20 homers). He's also very durable, averaging 144 games a year over the last three seasons. But he's 31 years old, and like the other homegrown Yankees who man their up-the-middle positions, he's
sub-par defensively. Though he cut back dramatically on the number of passed balls he allowed in 2002 (7, down from 18 in 2001), Posada led the league in errors and threw out only 29% of attempted steals (11th in the league).
Posada is entering the second year of a five-year, $51 million contract--an absurdly large deal to give an over-30 catcher. I
wrote about Posada's contract back in February, noting that of the 10 most similar catchers (using Bill James' Similarity Scores), none had any kind of productive year beyond age 29. But those comps lacked the durability of Posada as well as his high walk rate (something Similarity Scores
don't measure directly). It's also worth noting that Posada converted to catcher in the minors and thus may not have as much mileage on him as a typical 31-year old backstop.
Is now the right time to trade him? The Yankee organization is thin at the position. Chris Widger and Albert Castillo backed up Posada in 2002, combining for a meager .238 AVG/.252 OBP/.317 SLG in 107 plate appearances. Top catching prospect David Parrish (son of eight-time All-Star
Lance Parrish, who caught 19 seasons in the bigs) isn't ready, hitting only .238/.328/.322 at AA Norwich. ESPN's John Sickels
had this to say about him in May:
New York's first pick in the 2000 draft, Parrish was a successful college player at Michigan, compared to his father Lance both offensively and defensively. He didn't play well in '01, but shows signs of having turned things around this year, hitting .293 with solid strike zone judgment in the early going at Double-A Norwich. He doesn't have as much raw power as his father did, and it seems unlikely that he'll emerge as a star. But he has potentially solid skills across the board.
But Sickels left Parrish off of his
most recent list of top catching prospects. So if the Yanks do trade Posada, they'd basically start from scratch in finding a full-time catcher.
While he's productive now, the day when Posada's contract becomes a burden to the Yankees will likely arrive. At that point his bat might still have some value, but given the occupation of first base and DH slots by Jason Giambi and Nick Johnson, Posada may have nowhere to play in pinstripes. I'd hate to see the Yanks trade Hip Hip Jorge, but Branch Rickey's sage advice about trading a player a year too early rather than a year too late should weigh heavily on Cashman's mind.
• • • • •
"You know as well as I do that Seasonal Affective Disorder is just a fancy name for the end of the baseball season. "--Brad Zellar, Twin Cities
CityPages.com
Rest assured that season's end doesn't mean I'll be mothballing this site. Unlike some of my colleagues in the bloggerverse, I don't really give a damn about football, at least not enough to write home about it (you were expecting maybe the Futility Lineman?). It's baseball all year long at the Futility Infielder, and I'll crank up the hot stove to keep warm. In the tradition of my successful series of
"Remaking the Yankees" articles last winter, I'll be taking a closer look at the team's roster needs and options in the next month or so. Plus I have plenty of catching up to do around here -- a minor facelift for the site, along with game reports, Wall of Fame inductions, book reviews, and the long-threatened Futility Infielder of the Year award.
If he'd lived to see it, Gene Autry would have declared himself Back in the Saddle Again. After 41 years and from beyond the grave, the Cowboy got the Monkey off his back on Sunday night. Mike Scioscia's Lackeys did their bidding quite well (even his Molinas didn't do too badly), and the Angels are World Champions, beating the the Giants 4-1 in Game Seven.
While not a classic on the order of 1991 or even last year, this was a memorable World Series, filled with some strange and often surreal moments. Sunday night's most bizarre image was that of a blonde female Angels fan reaching down to "whack" Giants outfielder Reggie Sanders with her ThunderStix as Sanders retrieved Garret Anderson's bases-clearing double. While hailing this as the probable death (
and with good cause) of the Big Inflatable Dildo era in sports souvenirs, let's give thanks for those other slices of weirdness which will forever earmark this series:
• J.T. Snow falling on his can in pursuit of a foul ball and then rising to retrieve it in Game One
• J.T. Snow scooping up young Darren Baker as he crossed home plate in Game Five
• J.T. Snow batting .407 in a World Series on Earth, played by Humans
• Bengie Molina getting on base five straight times in one game -- twice via intentional walk -- in Game Three
• Shawon Dunston hitting a home run in Game Six that for a few innings looked as if it might stand up as the Series-winner
• Jay Witasick reliving last year's i-can't-get-anybody-out-and-I-haven't-even-registered-for-this-class-which-I'm-failing-and-the-test-is-today nightmare all over again
• Barry Bonds dribbing two consecutive hits like basketballs out in left field during the fateful Game Six
Of course, plenty of conventional memories, both spectacular and prosaic, will endure as well:
• Bonds hitting a towering home run seemingly every time the Angels dared pitch to him
• Bonds un-Velcro-ing his ridiculous body armor after taking yet another walk
• Benito Santiago corkscrewing himself into the ground on every swing
• Dusty Baker chewing a toothpick nervously
• Pint-sized David Eckstein sprinting to first after a walk
• Baby-faced Francisco Rodriguez dropping a succession of nasty sliders on Giants hitters
• Troy Percival and the other near-sighted, self-described dirtbags of the Angels bullpen squinting in for the sign from the catcher
• Darin Erstad laying out for a spectacular grab in centerfield
• Tim Salmon's pair of homers in Game Two, the second capping a wild and woolly 11-10 win
• Scott Spiezio's just-over-the-wall 3-run homer in Game Six, keying one of the most dramatic comebacks in Series history
In the end, I'm certainly happy that the Angels won. Their brand of baseball has made for consistently engaging viewing over the past few weeks, a bare minimum of hair-loss, and some
food for thought in the world of sabermetrics. I may never find myself rooting for them again, but I've enjoyed this ride with Ecks and Erstad, Kennedy and K-Rod, Troy and Troy, Donnelly and Weber, the Salmon and the Sandfrog, Soc and Hatch. On the other hand, if I never again have to pull for Kevin Appier while poring over his pock-marked neck or hearing about his camels, it will be too soon.
On the other side, while I'm gleeful that the Giants lost (roll over Durocher, and tell Dusty Baker the news: "The Giants Lose The Series! The Giants Lose the Series!" ), I don't envy their fans. The second-guessing of Baker which will inevitably ensue may pale in comparison to the second-guessing of Baker and owner Peter Magowan if they part ways this offseason. In the meantime, the concerned parties can ponder Baker's use of the bullpen in Game Six, staying too long with Livan in Game Seven, pinch-hitting Goodwin for Sanders -- hell, the entire bench for the entire postseason, period. Better your problem than mine, pal.
Game Seven was a fitting conclusion to a fine season of baseball, Bud Selig's best efforts to destroy the sport notwithstanding. Congratulations to the Angels, their organization, and their fans. And by my watch, there's only about 110 days until Pitchers and Catchers. Are we there yet?
