The Baseballhead Awards

Michael Cox

This is the year that was (unless you're Frank Thomas and you'd just as soon forget it)...

Player of the Year
Sammy Sosa. Sure, McGwire hit four more home runs (which basically accounts for the pitches deliberately served up for him, but that's a whole 'nother whine) and is a great guy, but Sosa was a better hitter, helped his team more, went to the postseason, sent three planeloads of supplies to the Dominican Republic for hurricane relief and contributed mountains of cash, went to Japan (and even apologized for not putting on a better show) and all the while, tried to deflect attention to others. Sammy, you the man.

Player Who Saved Baseball
Mark McGwire, taking over from Cal Ripken (who saved baseball in 1995) and Ken Griffey Jr. (who saves baseball most of the time). Baseball has sure needed a whole lot of saving...

NL MVP
Sosa, for reasons outlined above.

AL MVP
Alex Rodriguez in a walk. In generating the greatest offensive season ever for a shortstop, he essentially accomplished a feat roughly equivalent to Mac's homer frenzy.

Pitcher of the Year
Roger Clemens. Duh. The funniest thing about his Cy win is the press (you know, the other press) speculation that now that he's good, he'll go back to Boston. Err, we'll see.

Rookie of the Year
Kerry Wood. His season would likely have been even more impressive had Cubs manager Jim Riggleman not worked Wood until his arm almost came off.

Manager of the Year
Counting only regular-season games: Bruce Bochy, San Diego, who masterfully managed a bullpen into his team's pride.
Taking into account the playoffs: Larry Dierker, Houston. Bochy botched his bullpen so badly in the postseason that the bad taste is still in my mouth.

Worst Player of the Year (On-Field)
I can't decide. Al Martin? Ozzie Guillen (always a good choice)? Fill-in-name-of-Tigers-prospect-here? Tell you what, as much as I hate to pile on when a guy is down, with an OPS of .577 Rey Ordonez couldn't play enough defense to make up for it if he was The Flash.

Worst Player of the Year (Off-Field)
Livan Hernandez by acclamation (then again, it is only me). Accused of roughing up a former girlfriend, he told the press it was all about money. Then when the suit was settled -- Hernandez had to complete a domestic intervention program, donate $5,000 to charity, pay only $75 in restitution and comply with a restraining order -- he then told the press it was all just to make him look bad. Runner-up: Albert Belle, like always.

Broadcaster of the Year
Jon Miller. He calls a damn fine game, and the fact that he's no longer employed by the morons in Baltimore makes it an even better decision. If we could only get him away from Joe Morgan...

Bad Broadcaster of the Year
Tim McCarver, who treats his audience like babies. Deaf babies. Deaf babies from foreign-speaking lands.

Journalist of the Year
Rob Neyer, ESPN.com. In a wasteland of recycled newspaper hacks and Peter Gammons, Neyer speaks sense.

Bad Journalist of the Year
It's a three-way tie:
Bob Kravitz, Rocky Mountain News -- made headlines for calling Griffey a "punk" and a "jerk" for simply not wanting to play in the Home Run Derby. He has no writing skills whatsoever, and somehow thinks that you create a "point-form" column by putting a bullet point in front of each sentence in a paragraph. Strunk and White spin in their graves.

Mark Kiszla, Denver Post -- what is it about Denver where they can't find a decent sportswriter if their lives depended on it? Kiszla reached into Dante Bichette's locker to read the label on a bottle of Andro, got nailed, and made the "sorry if I offended you" apology (rather than the "sorry I screwed up royally and I understand fully if you never trust me again" apology). The upside: he proved that it is possible to get drummed out of the Baseball Writers' Association. Unfortunately, the guy had the gall to try and sue the BBWAA to get his credentials back. Give him the bum's rush.

Ron C. Judd -- We here in Seattle have the unfortunate luck to occasionally get to see the crap passed off as sports "humor" by Judd, whose overarching theme is "I can't stand pro sports." It's the most singularly mean-spirited stuff I've ever seen in a regular column. Unfortunately, he has the paper by the short hairs, because he's the leader of the local newspaper writer's guild.

I've got plenty where this came from, but I sense the McCarver Attention-Span Effect coming on.

about the author

Michael Cox writes better than Kravitz, Kiszla or Judd on his bad days, but that's no big deal because you probably do, too. Give it a shot at mc@strikethree.com.