The Dutch have done it again. In an 11-inning thriller the Dutch National Baseball team upset the mighty Dominican Republic at the World Baseball Classic.
Despite Colorado Rockies pitcher Jubaldo Jimenez striking out 10 Dutch hitters in 4 innings (WOW!), the Nederlanders were also able to keep anyone from scoring until the top of of the 11th when Jose Reyes scored on an outfield error.
The game appeared to be lost for the plucky Dutchmen, but they managed to tie the game and score the game-winner, also on an fielding error.
So far this has been a tournament of upsets; the Dutch beating the DR twice, Australia thumping Mexico, Korea sinking Japan and Canada losing to Italy. Can the Cinderella stories continue?
Someone will have to explain to me someday why I have a knack for picking losers in sporting events. I don't mean the throwaway selections one makes when your team is eliminated, like how I supported the Steelers in this year's Super Bowl, but rather those teams in which I invest emotionally. In my lifetime, I've been on the winning side of 5 Champions: 1986 Canadiens, 1992 and 1993 Blue Jays, 1993 Canadiens and France in the 1998 World Cup. The total goes up a bit if you include Donovan Bailey and also the 2002 Salt Lake City Men's hockey team (but really, cheering for Canada at a hockey tournament is a little redundant).
Granted, cheering for your country is not really an option (although let me assure you that my colleagues of Italian-descent don't make any bones about turning their back on the country in which they were born and raised in favour of the romanticized country they hear tales about from their grandparents). When Canada enters a tournament like the World Baseball Classic or World Cup Qualifying, I certainly have no other option of who to cheer for. It is ingrained in my DNA. The problem is the sports I care most about happen to be one we didn't invent. I think it's great that Canada dominates in hockey and curling in international tournaments but like I alluded to earlier, it doesn't give me any deep satisfaction.
Canada did it again to me last night. They did it to me 3 years ago as well when they barely beat South Africa and got thumped by Mexico, so much so that the "runs against" rule is what bounced them from the tourney (they were tied with the USA and Mexico with a 2-1 round robin record). This one stings a little more. Having played an excellent game against the USA before falling to them 6-5, everyone was feeling good about our chances to face Venezuela tonight. Problem was that too many people looked beyond Italy, including manager Ernie Whitt who chose to go with an unknown and untested starter instead of the "ace" of the staff Scott Richmond.
The logic was solid, and really I can't argue with it except in hindsight. Our hitting would power us over the Italians even if the pitching allowed a few runs here and there. Honestly, I would have made the same call, preserving Richmond against a powerhouse Venezuela team. And so on this night Canada was pinning its hopes on Vince Perkins, some dude who's bounced around the minors since 2000 and has never gotten beyond "AA" (that being double "A" baseball, not Alcoholics Anonymous, although last night's outing might lead him to the drink). He was full of gusto in pre-game interviews, boasting about how his arm hadn't felt this good since he was 18, and how he hoped to raise some major league eyebrows with his performance.
Well, he never got off the ground and the only facial expressions he inspired likely won't win him a promotion. He got the first batter he faced to hit a squibbler to the foot of the mound, but he bungled the ball and never got a throw off to first. Was that shaking hands I saw from Perkins as he fielded that ball? It might have been, and it jives with the rest of his outing, in which he couldn't find the strike zone and allowed 3 hits and 4 walks in 2+ innings. When he was mercifully pulled in the top of the third, Canada was down 3-0.
Not to take away anything from a plucky Italian team that played out of their minds. They were just as spectacular on defence as when they played Venezuela Saturday only this time they pushed runs across the plate, something Canada could not do, leaving 10 runners on base throughout the game. Time and again Votto, Morneau and Bay would be left on base by hitters who couldn't come close to making meaningful contact.
In the end, Canada's pitching was not sufficient to make any kind of dent in this tournament. They were let down by Ryan Dempster, Erik Bedard and Rich Harden, arguably Canada's best pitchers, who chose to decline an invitation to join the team for no good reason. They were also done in by a hitting lineup that was appallingly weak once you got past 2 through 6. Pete Orr, I'm looking right at you (not to mention Matt Stairs' golf swing).
And here I am left to dissect yet another stumble by a Canadian national team, much like I do whenever Canada's soccer team loses to the likes of Guatemala, Honduras and Nicaragua. As always, we killed them on paper. Perhaps it's time for our teams to enter the digital age.
Our stomachs rumbling, leaving the stadium in search of sustenance was our first order of business following the game. Clearing out 42,000 fans is no quick endeavor however, and it took a good 15 minutes from the time we left our seats to making it outside, where a light rain was complicating the exodus. We had a couple of yahoos behind us yelling for people to move faster, which grated on our nerves. The Waffle should have arranged for a police escort for us, but in this he fell way short of expectations (during the game Daddio suggested he grab the cute cop's hat and run around the field with it, but not enough drinks had been consumed - we might have gotten out of the stadium faster had he listened to that advice!).
We knew and accepted that getting a table at a restaurant close to Rogers Centre might be difficult; there were 42,000 of us from baseball and the Leafs were playing next door on Hockey Night in Canada. That's a lot of people looking for food. We had 3 hours to spare until the Italy v. Venezuela game, so we weren't too worried. Nothing prepared us for the level incompetence we were about to encounter, mind you.
We poked our noses into a couple prospective restaurants but were met with massive lineups, so we decided to move along each time. Finally we spotted Philthy McNasty's and the lineup didn't look to bad. Upon inquiring at the door, we were told that a 10 minute wait for a table was expected. This seemed reasonable to us and, in fact, were seated within five. Awesome. Perusing the menu, discussing our drink choices, turning on the television at our table, this distracted us for a bit. No waitress came during this time. Upon further observation, we saw that there were about 3 waitresses working for about 200 patrons. We also saw that people at other tables looked pretty pissed off repeatedly trying to attract their server's attention, only to be being waved off every time. It's about at this point that Moonturk said: "If the decision is to leave here and go elsewhere, I'll support it 100%". I checked my watch and we still had 2 1/2 hours left to game time. "Other than being hungry, we're in no rush and besides, we'll have to wait elsewhere anyway". We all agreed to wait it out.
Another 10 minutes went by before I caught the hostess and asked her over. "Nobody's been to see you yet, huh? Well, I'll try and see if someone can serve you." Ahem..."Try?" Yikes. We then noticed people going to the bar to get their own drinks and pitchers, because the waitresses were too overwhelmed. After another 10 minutes (by this time we had spent at least half an hour in the place), the hostess was able to grab the "manager" to come serve us. A stern, "no-bullshit" look was accompanied with "What do you guys want?", pencil to paper. The Waffle, in an attempt to change the tone, attempted a friendly "Busy night, huh?". No eye contact in the response "It's getting there. Listen, you guys should know that it'll be an hour for food." Thanks, but we were out of there. Farewell to "Philthy McNasty's: Our name describes our commitment to service".
Here's a question for the manager of the establishment: How is it that a restaurant, located in the tourist district of Toronto, within shouting distance of both the Rogers Centre and Air Canada Centre, on a night with two baseball and one hockey games is not prepared for a crowd? You would think that a place like that, on a night like this, would staff itself properly. But hey, I'm no MBA.
We ended up eating at Dunn's next door, who provided us with excellent food (Daddio said it was the best steak sandwich he'd ever eaten and my smoked meat sandwich was just a notch below Nate's Deli), excellent service and a much better atmosphere. They got us out of there in time to make the second game with time to spare. A tip of the hat to a fine establishment.
As soon as we entered the concourse to the stadium, we heard it: fans singing in unison. Oh yeah. Venezuela in the house and bringing a soccer atmosphere. Too bad there were only a few thousand of them, but it was a testament to how a few well-organized and dedicated fans can make a stadium sound full. Many jokes were being made pre-game about Italy's baseball prowess. Perusing the starting lineup did nothing to stem the flow of these jokes, since only Nick Punto, Frank Catalonotto, Mark Defelice and Jason Grilli had any kind of pedigree.
Turns out the Italians had a little sumthin' sumthin' in the tank after all. Our first wow moment came in the bottom of the first when Bobby Abreu lined a ball to the right/centre gap. What looked to be a sure hit was snagged by an incredible diving catch by "Super" Mario Chiarini. It would appear diving is an Italian specialty (sorry DeRosa, I couldn't resist:
All kidding aside, the Italians were fairly impressive against a team loaded with MLB superstars, spreading a good bunch of hard hit balls into green spaces. They got to the 5th inning still scoreless until Italy made a strange decision in changing pitchers (the starter, Mark DeFelice was nowhere near the tournament-imposed 70 pitch limit). The skipper went to Jason Grilli who promptly gave up 3 runs while recording only one out, to the endless enjoyment of the Detroit Tigers fan behind us who was thrilled that the pitcher who was formerly on his team was now ruining another ball club).
The Venezuelans ran away for the rest of the game, eventually winning 7-0 in what turned out to be something of a boring game. I guess we started losing interest when the blowout began to materialize, but keep in mind we were somewhere near our 6th hour of baseball for the day. A few more drinks and a few more wings at a pub across from our hotel sealed the night, and we retired to our beds. At least that's the story we're sticking with.
The trip back was mainly uneventful save for the texting maniac on the 401 who almost ran herself into a barrier before realizing that driving might be a better option as her first priority. We also fooled Daddio's better half into believing we had taken a detour through Watertown, N.Y., when in fact he was only 15 minutes away from arriving home. She was very diplomatic, but I suspect it's only because she knew we were all listening to her through the OnStar system in Daddio's van. Still waiting to find out how that story concluded when he got home.
It was a very fun trip spent with close friends, with a good mix of baseball and decent food thrown into the pot. Can't wait for our next road trip.
The North American leg of the World Baseball Classic kicks off tomorrow and I'll be there, first base side, 4 rows in. The first match features Canada v. USA at 2pm (Sportsnet), followed by Venezuela v. Italy.
Venezuela is expected to start Felix "THE KING" Hernandez against Italy, who doesn't have any recognizable names except Frank "The Cat" Catalonotto and Nick "Punta" Punto. This will likely be a blowout, but we'll get to see many MLB stars from Venezuela like Magglio Ordonez, Bobby Abreu and Carlos Guillen.
No matter what I'm just excited to see competitive baseball again, with an international flavour to boot.
I'm making the trek from Ottawa with three close friends, one of which is the author of The Waffle (any Toronto restaurants you feel should be covered by this sublime food critic? Let us know in the comments section!).
Head? Consider yourself turned. Eyebrow? Inquisitively raised .
