Bryce Harper, the National League’s Most Valuable Player, and Kris Bryant, its Rookie of the Year received keys to the city during a ceremony on the the 3rd Street Stage at the Fremont Street Experience downtown Thursday night.
Sports Columns
I always believed Pete Rose to be the little boy who keeps touching the hot stove, even though he has been warned countless times that such a decision will inevitably result in pain. I just don’t think he gets it. Or ever has.
Clayton Kershaw, the ace of the Dodgers, a five-time All-Star, three-time Cy Young Award winner, and a Most Valuable Player if ever there was one — pitcher of a no-hitter and thousands of strikeouts and possessor of a career 2.43 earned-run average, best of the current era — couldn’t get anybody out.
Greatness has been attached to Bryce Harper since he first hacked at a fastball from the left side, the expectation that one day he would be considered the game’s best. He is now.
He signs autographs, poses for pictures, is considered about as unassuming a young major league baseball star as one might hope for but never really believes exists. Kris Bryant is also this today: National League Rookie of the Year.
A lot people, including young general managers and desperate guys trying to impress women in bars, are into baseball sabermetrics: WAR, WHIP, OPS, what have you.
Because guys who started the baseball season pitching for the 51s apparently will get you only so far, this World Series might be remembered as being more anticlimactic than memorable.
UNLV baseball forges ahead in the wake of coach Tim Chambers being arrested earlier this month in connection with driving under the influence and being put on administrative leave by the university.
It must drive 51s president Don Logan nuts that baseball fans who live within a relay throw of Cashman Field don’t think like that when it comes to top-line pitching prospects.
So far, the postseason has been all about pitching. The aces are dealing. The Los Angeles Dodgers are lucky enough to throw two of baseball’s best, Clayton Kershaw and Zack Greinke, back to back.
Bryce Harper not hustling to first base probably would have gone unnoticed had Jonathan Papelbon not gone Boston Strangler on him in the dugout, Boston being the place whence Papelbon came, via stopover in Philadelphia.
It was in the wee hours of the morning when the bulletin declared it an official game, that lovable Yogi Berra had died at age 90.
People always enjoy stories about a guy spending a lot of time in the minor leagues, paying serious dues and whatnot, before he breaks into the majors. Especially if he does something in the majors.
A few weeks ago I heard from Mike Bryant, father of Chicago Cubs slugger Kris Bryant, the player soon to be named National League Rookie of the Year. It might have been in July, when his son was scuffling.
It was Labor Day, and game 144 (of 144) of the Pacific Coast League season was played before only a sunbaked smattering of spectators at Cashman Field. You could hear Beer Man Bruce bellow from foul line to foul line.
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