Why the negativity?

Why the Negativity?
Aaron M. Smith

Dusty Baker gets blasted despite managing first-place team.

The Cincinnati Reds are in first place for only the second time in about a dozen years this late in the season. Recently, before a four-game slide, the Reds had the best record in all of Major League Baseball. They had won 22-of-25 games, most of which without injured Joey Votto, the best player in the National League. The last time the Reds went on a run like this, Grover Cleveland was in office.

Yet throughout this amazing run and especially now after losing four straight, the negativity voiced by this team's fans on talk radio and social media has gotten out of control. You can't turn on AM 700 WLW without hearing fans from all over the tri-state area blasting the Reds for an inability to hit, an ineffectiveness on the mound, and a general lack of knowledge from manager Dusty Baker and general manager Walt Jocketty. On Twitter, a flood of tweets from twits constantly blast Baker's lineup, his handling of pitchers, and even his use of that blasted toothpick. The critiques and complaints come in such high volume, you would think we're dealing with the Astros and their 40-games under .500 record.

We're not, though. We're dealing with a first place team. A team that is 21 games over .500 and that leads the surging Pirates by 2 1/2 games. We're dealing with a team that, prior to Dusty Baker's arrival, had sniffed the playoffs just once since sweeping the World Series in 1990. You would think fans would be grateful for what Baker has brought to the Queen City. Sadly, he's received a barrage of criticism.

Joey Votto

One complaint about Dusty Baker that I always hear: "He kills pitchers arms and works them to death." Fact: The Reds have used only five starting pitchers this year. Only the Marlins can say they've done the same. How would you like to be San Diego? They've used 13 different starting pitchers and, surprise, they're in second-to-last place in the NL West with a .434 winning percentage. Who's in last place in the division? The Rockies. They've used 11 different starting pitchers. Seems like Baker has taken good care of his pitcher's arms and, as a result, has managed a first-place team. Let's give that repetitive critique a rest for a while.

Another complaint that he always gets: "What's with that lineup? Dusty's lineups suck." Fact: The Reds went on a 15-3 stretch without Joey Votto. They won several without Votto and Brandon Phillips in the lineup. Why is that? Because every player on that bench has had playing time and every starter has received enough rest to keep him fresh. The Reds have veterans like Ryan Ludwick, Scott Rolen, Miguel Cairo, and Wilson Valdez. They're going to need rest. They cannot start every day or they won't be available or productive during the stretch run. Bench players like Valdez and Cairo and Chris Heisey all have seen significant time in meaningful games this year. Rookie Todd Frazier now has experience playing three different positions -- which comes in handy when you have an aging third basemen and an MVP first basemen on the disabled list. These bench players are not afraid of game time because they have seen it and played in it. The veterans are contributing greatly in the second half of the season because they haven't been played to death. That credit goes to Baker. The lineup bashing needs to stop.

I've mentioned some of these things to people and I hear all this "It's my right to criticize the team," or "I'm a fan, I pay money to see them play. I have a right to criticize them." I guess you do. You can have your freedom of speech. But why the negativity? I cannot understand why you would call yourself a fan and then spend all your energy dumping on the manager, who has them in first place? "They are in first place despite Dusty," I've heard. "They should be 10 games ahead of the Pirates," is another one. To them I say, -- well, I just throw up my hands. There is no logic to being so negative, especially for a first-place team. As assistant director of media relations Jamie Ramsey pointed out on Twitter, "Wait, what are they complaining about?" Said 24 other MLB teams' fans." Exactly. Enjoy the run people. It could be far worse. It's been a decade since the Reds have been relevant (pre-Dusty Baker).Why not enjoy this team. They're a great team with a great group of players. Put down your critic's hat and enjoy this.

Jamie Ramsey

Ramsey has also had enough of the negativity, and with good reason. People have blasted Ramsey on Twitter for, get this, being too supportive of his team. That's ridiculous. One twit wrote: "eternal optimist, you would have stayed on the titanic as it was sinking." To which Ramsey replied: "I don't give up on my team." And why should he? And why should anyone? I just don't understand. After firing off an onslaught of illogical critiques of the Reds, some Cincinnati fans decided to go after Ramsey personally with a vitriolic hate that has no place in society. It's really unconscionable how people can act like this ... they can act like this behind the veil of social media. There is no accountability. Ramsey, after sending off an ill-advised direct message to one of the worst offenders, shut down his account after the offender re-tweeted his threatening message. Should Ramsey have sent the message saying how he would have enjoyed kicking his a$$ in front of his six followers? No. And he knows that and acknowledged as much. But do I blame him? Absolutely not.

Ramsey is one of the Reds' most boisterous and ardent supporters. What he has done around Cincinnati to support the Reds, their players, and their organization has been fantastic. He is optimistic. He talks anxious fans down from the ledge after losing streaks. And he rightfully defends the team when a flood of negativity swarms his Twitter feed and Reds blog. I'm happy to report that his Twitter account is active again. I hope that this time, Ramsey simply blocks followers that are full of hate and negativity. I hope he doesn't bother with RTing these negative whiners in an attempt to defend the team. These people will find other outlets to spew their vitriol. Let's keep Ramsey's feed for those who actually support the team.

Long gone are the days of "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." Now, it seems, people like to shoot off their mouths to get a reaction, to get RTd, to make themselves feel as if they know better. Yes, it's your right to act like a 10-year-old. But why? What's the point? This is a good team -- a first-place team. It's not like the Reds have been mired in a lackluster drudge of a season. It's been a heck of a year, and this Reds fan plans to enjoy this ride clear through October. And if they don't make it until October, this team will be back again next year for another run a title. And regularly being in a championship chase is really all you can ask for as a fan.

Trust me. I'm also a Browns fan.

Angry Birds

Angry Birds
By Aaron M. Smith

Tony LaRussa unhappy about something.

Last year before a pivotal divisional series between the Cincinnati Reds and St. Louis Cardinals, Cincinnati second baseman Brandon Phillips set off a firestorm with a flurry of salty adjectives aimed at the Cardinals players and coaching staff. The Reds were promptly swept and I have always believed that Phillips never should have said what he said on the radio.

The Cardinals, though seem happy to prove Phillips right on seemingly a nightly basis.

I love the unwritten rules of baseball and how players police themselves. But when a guy like LaRussa seems ignorant of these unwritten rules, yet still attempts to police the game via his players, it sours the whole experience. Last night in Milwaukee was a perfect example.

In a titanic struggle between the National League Central's top two teams, Milwaukee and St. Louis had a great game going. The Brewers were clinging to a one-run advantage in the seventh inning as the Cardinals threatened with runners on first and third with no outs. The Cardinals' Albert Pujols, one of the National League leaders in hitting into double plays, was at the plate and was promptly hit on the wrist on a high and tight pitch to load the bases. The Cardinals screamed foul even though putting Pujols on base would have been ridiculous given who the Cardinals have up next in their lineup. Milwaukee's Jonathan Lucroy had this to say about the situation:

"There's no way that we were trying to hit Pujols on purpose. You kidding me in that situation? If we wanted to put him on base, we would have walked him. That's ridiculous. We were trying to pitch inside and get a ground ball to third base."

When the Brewers came to the plate, LaRussa had his hardest throwing pitcher fire inside at Brewers' slugger Ryan Braun. Not once, but twice -- the second pitch was a 97 mile-per-hour fastball that hit Braun's back. LaRussa then claimed that it was not intentional but that he wanted to "send a message" to the Brewers for the way they were pitching to Pujols. Not intentional, but just sending a message? So what LaRussa called it was an unintentional intentional warning to the Brewers. Classic LaRussa. Then he whined about it for a long time to reporters following the game. LaRussa even referred to Brewers fans as "idiots ... not idiots, I mean fans" for booing when Braun was hit.

"We threw two balls in there real good just to send a message," La Russa said, raising his voice. "If he ducks them, it's all over and we don't hit him. The ball that they tried to throw on Pujols was aimed right where they aimed it. Did they try to hit him? No. But there's a small window there."

This is just the latest in a string of whiny behavior from the Cardinals.

Cardinals pitcher Chris Carpenter and LaRussa have complained on more than one instance that the baseballs in Cincinnati have not been rubbed down properly. No other team has had the same issue. Cardinals' pitching coach Dave Duncan also has complained about this issue, even going as far as saying the Reds' pitchers have pine tar on their caps to help grip the balls.

"I'm sure (Arroyo) had pine tar on his cap. He didn't have any problem getting a grip. Balls like that can generate a lot more movement than a slick ball that hasn't been rubbed up."

Of course, the umpires, who have the final say of whether the baseballs have been rubbed properly, found no evidence of any pine tar on Arroyo's cap.

Carpenter pouting about something.

Carpenter has complained about mound conditions at Great American Ball Park more than once. No other pitcher seems to have the same problem. After surrendering a home run to the Reds on May 15th of this year, Carpenter stood on the mound and pouted like an 8-year-old not getting his way because the smoke from the fireworks bothered him. By the way, the Cardinals shoot off fireworks after home runs, too. Carpenter whined to someone who then whined to the Cincinnati Reds. Unfortunately, when the Cardinals coughed up another home run to the Reds later in the game, the ballpark staff decided not to shoot off fireworks. Pathetic. I would have fired off the entire arsenal.

Later in that same game, Duncan cried foul the same way LaRussa did last night against the Brewers. The Reds' bullpen let most of a 9-2 lead get away in a five-run ninth inning. Aroldis Chapman walked four of the five batters he faced and then Nick Masset gave up a two-run double to Ryan Theriot that cut it to 9-5. Francisco Cordero came on with one out and gave up a two-run double to Nick Punto, then came high and tight with a two-strike pitch to Pujols that hit the first baseman on his left wrist. Key part of that last sentence: a two-strike pitch. Why would you intentionally hit a guy who you have on the ropes? Even Pujols realized that Cordero didn't want to put the tying run on base, but some of his teammates and coaches started yelling at Cordero. Duncan went ballistic after Cordero finally shut the door on the Cardinals, yelling and screaming like a toddler at nap time. You have to understand the situation and Duncan and LaRussa clearly do not. They simply fire off inaccurate accusations. There is no place in the game of baseball for that kind of ignorance.

No other team in baseball is like the Cardinals. And that's not a compliment to St. Louis. A reputation does not come from a single incident or event. It is earned through a series of events that come to define who or what a person or, in this case, a team is. Saying the Cardinals have a reputation for whining and complaining would be an accurate statement. Just look at the facts. Simply type "Cardinals, whiny" in Google and settle on in for some hardy reading.

The Cardinals whined and complained about the Reds last year when Cincinnati challenged the Cardinals and eventually won the division. This year, Milwaukee is leading the division with the Cardinals in second place. And to no one's surprise, the Cardinals' whines are aimed squarely at the division leaders once again.

Phillips may have been wrong to publicly call out the Cardinals a year ago. But that doesn't make what the second baseman said any less accurate.

LeCure, Twitter, and the Meaning of Life

LeCure, Twitter, and the Meaning of Life
By Aaron M. Smith

"It's what you bring to the table, not what you wear to it." -- Sam LeCure

Sam LeCure

Sam LeCure is not Cy Young. He may never win one either. But what he represents is what baseball is all about -- the journey, the struggles, the joy in success, the frustration in coming up short. He has the tools to last longer than a cup of coffee in the Bigs and the proper perspective to be just fine if he doesn't.

I was at LeCure's Major League debut last year when the Reds throttled Houston at Great American Ball Park in Cincinnati. All he was to me at that time was simply a prospect with an encouraging first outing. But in the year since, he's become a lot more.

Thanks to Twitter.

I began following him on the social media site not long after that game and was immediately immersed in the world of an up-and-coming baseball player. Reading his tweets, one gets a glimpse at the life of someone trying to live out a dream. One sees what life is like in the minor leagues and how excited a guy can be when he takes the mound in a Big League stadium. More importantly, one sees that baseball does not define a player. There is so much more to LeCure. He's an uncle who loves that role. He's a music lover -- it often serves as "therapy" for LeCure. He's a dreamer, a thinker, a philosopher. He's more than just some guy who can help my team win.

LeCure, a 6-foot-1, 205 pounder with a wild-west mustache and a strong right arm, hails from Jefferson City, MO.  He was drafted by Philadelphia out of high school in the 2002 amateur draft, but did not sign. Instead he played college ball for Texas before getting drafted and signed by the Reds in the 2005 draft. LeCure was called up to Cincinnati last May and made his major league debut in a start for the Reds on May 28, 2010 against the Houston Astros. LeCure pitched six innings, gave up two runs and six hits with four walks while striking out five batters. He was also the beneficiary of the Reds' offense producing fifteen runs on nineteen hits. Since then, he has bounced up and down between the Reds and their AAA affiliate Louisville. He currently is the long-relief man in Dusty Baker's bull pen.

Growing up, I always got the image of baseball players driving convertibles and living in mansions. As I've become an adult, that couldn't be further from reality. Sure there are some -- the superstars -- who live that lifestyle. But the majority of baseball players do not -- and these are the guys that are far more interesting to me. I love to hear about the struggles of fighting through the minor leagues to get to the show. 

"I don't know what to say folks," LeCure tweeted earlier this season. "I desperately want to pitch and I feel like I'm wasting space as I'm sure you all do. I'm ready if they call."

I crave stories of real life, real guys making it. That is Sam LeCure.

"I'll say this, my first trip to Wrigley was a memorable one," LeCure tweeted after pitching well in Chicago. "So happy to help the team win, and what a cool ballpark. Thanks, #beeasy."

LeCure gets it. He's not spoiled by his opportunity with the Reds. He does not have some skewed view of the world because he's a major league baseball player. He understands, and more importantly, appreciates the opportunities that have come his way. And he lives out this life, this journey of his on Twitter.

He engages his fans in philosophical discussions: "Sports, politics, humanity, what's going on in the world that is in the forefront of your mind?"

He gives his fans a glimpse of what it's like to live the life of a traveling ball player: "Nothing quite like waking up and having no idea where you are. Lovely #roadwarrior"

And he embraces his family life: "Just talked to my Pop for a while, I love that guy. He is who he is and hes cool with that, and so am I. Can't wait to give him a big hug."

LeCure takes us on road trips with him with his regular "top step pictures." He stands on the top steps of the dugout in each stadium he visits and takes a picture. He then posts it to Twitter. It shows his appreciation of where he is and allows his fans to see the awesome view of sitting in a major league dugout.

He also provides his fans a healthy dose of perspective and thought in his "five things." Every once in a while, he posts five things that he is thankful for or items that he is thinking about. Rarely, if ever, is it baseball related. He does his readers a lot of good by showing that there is more to life than how well or poorly the Reds may be playing. Life goes beyond baseball.

"#5things -yet another chance to grow -treating yourself to something nice -a thoughtful gift for someone -sunshine -the ability to learn" -- @mrLeCure

It has been a treat to watch LeCure grow as a pitcher for the Reds and to "get to know" him through Twitter. When Dusty calls to the pen to bring him in, I feel like someone I know is getting called to the mound. I root for his success, not only as a Reds fan, but because I genuinely want to see LeCure succeed. He's the kind of guy I root for in sports.

LeCure's quest for success on the field and his craving of wisdom and knowledge off of it is inspiring. I will always be a fan of his.

And it will have nothing to do with is ERA.

NOTE: Follow Sam LeCure on Twitter -- @mrLeCure

Dipped in Magic Waters

Dipped in Magic Waters
By Aaron M. Smith

"And they'll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game and it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their faces." -- Terence Mann

Me in the left field corn at the Field of Dreams site in Iowa.

There was a pause, a moment of thought, and then I went for it. With the moonlight as my guide on that pitch black Iowa night, I sprinted with the exuberance of a 10-year old on Opening Day across the small stream of water. I galloped onto the cool damp grass on that putrid hot night, forgetting the anxiety that came with trespassing on private property well past midnight. The magic in the moonlight was palpable; I would not have been surprised had Joe Jackson himself emerged from the darkness of the cornfield.

My brother Jeremy and I were giddy; the quietness of the night, the breeze on our faces, and the smell of the sweet corn in the outfield transported us to our youth. There is something about that place that you can feel in your gut. It turns adults into little boys with over-sized baseball caps full of dreams of making it to the Bigs someday when they grow up. With clouds rushing past the nearly full moon that night, Jeremy and I patrolled the outfield grass. We walked into the corn, disappearing into the darkness, half expecting to magically land in some sort of baseball heaven. We didn't need to be magically transported; we were already there.

Me and Jeremy in Iowa.

Walking onto that field had been a dream of mine since I first watched Field of Dreams so many years ago on the eve of yet another Opening Day. Year after year, our family would gather in the living room with popcorn and put in the movie to get us in the mood for the start of the season -- the official start of summer -- the next afternoon. Being out there on that field in the darkness of night with only the sound of rustling corn stalks and the occasional passing car, it was apparent to me that the magic was certainly real.

After we had our share on the field that night, we drove back to the hotel a few miles away and hurried to sleep so that we could return in the morning. After breakfast, we went and bought a baseball glove and drove the beautiful serpentine roads of rural Iowa until we found the long gravel driveway of the farmhouse. To see the field in daylight was just as spectacular as the night before. I could visualize the whole movie -- Joe Jackson cracking fly balls to the cornfield in left, Archie winking, Terence Mann on the bleachers.

Jeremy and I played catch where Ray tossed with his dad. We swatted homeruns (from second base!) to hear the ball tear away at corn leaves on chest-high stalks. I played third base while a young boy took batting practice from his dad. I smacked a deep drive (this time from home plate!) off a perfect pitch from another boy and I ran all 360 feet around the base paths, sliding into home through a pile of red clay gravel. We walked the field more than once and talked to other visitors. One man, probably in his 70s, also strolled slowly in the outfield with his hands clasped behind his back. I asked him if he'd been here before. He had. Every single year since the field opened up to visitors, he made the drive from Indiana to soak in the magic.

But why? Why did he drive every year from Indiana to some empty baseball field in the middle of rural Iowa? Why did Jeremy and I make sure to visit the field? Why had it been a dream of mine to do that for so many years?

The Field of Dreams house

Growing up in rural Ohio, basketball was my favorite sport to play and football was my favorite to watch. However, as I have gotten older, baseball has become my favorite sport over the others. By far. Baseball is a special sport. It is timeless. Unlike any other sport, baseball immediately transports you to memories as a kid. I still fondly remember October of 1990 when my dad woke up my brothers and me to catch the end of the Cincinnati Reds' sweep of the Oakland Athletics. We had actually been listening to Marty Brennaman and Joe Nuxhall on a little box radio in our bedroom. But sitting with our legs crossed in the living room with my dad as Randy Myers jogged onto the field to close the ninth inning was special. Baseball has a connection beyond teams and players. It serves as a bond between fathers and children, brothers, and friends.

Mighty Sierra at the bat

Now that I have three children of my own, baseball serves as a constant in our lives. Whether we are watching the Reds on a warm summer night, or playing ball in the backyard, baseball is bringing joy and laughter to our lives. My daughter Sierra, now four, loves to tell me the score of the game. "Daddy, I have bad news," she'll say with a frown. "The Reds have only three runs and the blue team has five runs." But when the Reds take a lead, she sprints over to me with the thrilling news. My son Aidan, now two, knows the lyrics to Take Me Out to the Ball Game. He always requests his baseball shirts. He loves the Cincinnati Reds and Jay Bruce. I took him to a Reds game for his second birthday and we sat in the right field seats. He yelled "Bruuuuuuce!" the entire game. And little Natalie, just seven months, is getting started. She wears her little Reds onesies for big games.

Sierra and Aidan have the bond of baseball.

These are the moments I will undoubtedly be whisked back to some years from now when the three of them have left our house. The sound of their laughter, the crack of the bat, the happiness of Chrissy's cheering as Sierra races around makeshift bases after hitting a rocket past daddy. How I will long to hear Aidan's grand finale of "the old ball game!" I'll dream of sitting in the bright red seats of Great American Ball Park with my amazing children, eating hot dogs, and cheering on our team. What baseball has already brought to our lives is immeasurable. Baseball is beyond happiness.

It's heaven.

And that is why a lonely old man strolls around an empty diamond in rural Iowa every summer with visions of his father or brothers or friends playing baseball on an emerald swath of grass so many years ago.

A "ghost player" recreating the role of Chicago White Sox legend Shoeless Joe Jackson plays ball with a young tourist
(Photo by Jonathan Daniel/Getty Images)