Make the Reds Re-Earn Your Love

62-100 shouldn't go unnoticed

Long time caller, first time listener. . .

Fresh off a much-needed mini-vacation from the retirement grind, TML returns to your Inbox restored and renewed and wanting to talk about. . . the Reds.

Who, Doc?

The Cincinnati Reds, Baseball’s oldest team, and also its most tired, whose season slinked off into the cornfield Wednesday for a 6-month sleep. Has ever a business accomplished so little across so long a season?

Before we discuss ways to cope with a franchise that brought you 62-100, let’s get one small fact out of the way:

They owe you.

The Reds owe you for the 100 losses now besmirching their history. . . for insulting your loyalty on Opening Day. . . for a bullpen stolen from the Salvation Army. . . for allowing a once-vibrant franchise to lose a million customers between 2015 and 2022. FC Cincinnati averaged 5,200 more fans a game this year than the baseball team.

Where else you gonna go?

Lots of places, apparently.

This was an organization that for the last two months fielded an unrecognizable team of players. Guys with major-league bona fides? Pieces suitable for use on a contending team? I count one everyday player, Kyle Farmer. Two if you count J. India, who played sporadically and had a bad year. And the Reds even managed to insult Farmer by moving him off SS to see if Jose Barrero (.152 BA, OPS of .401) could play. Answer: Only if Baseball intros a Designated Fielder.

The Club will return in 2023 hyping the young pitching. Greene and Lodolo are gonna love losing lots of games 2-1 and 3-2, while their bosses trot out players with the potential to be the next Tommy Pham.

You could have faith that the rebuild launched by carpet-bombing the roster last year and this year will bear fruit. In a couple years, the Reds will begin resembling the Tampa Bay Rays. That is the faith, and maybe you’ll keep it. But faith can be defined as “something to believe in when common sense tells you not to.’’

I’ve always thought our town owned an admirable share of common sense.

All that said, I was sad when Thrall and Brantley signed off last night. I love the game for reasons forever discussed here. Its reliability, its gentleness, its place in the summer sun. We can (and do) spend lots of money on very nice vacations. I treasure those times and those memories. They’re special. But no more, maybe, than the hundred-plus evenings a year I spend with my friends Beer, Deck, Cigar and Baseball.

So here’s my survival suggestion for you, Redsfan:

Love the game for the game. Between April and October, leave your heart in the closet. Bring it out for the occasions that have earned your trust: Bengals games, UC football and basketball, XU basketball, your kids and grandkids preoccupations. Until the Reds re-earn your heart, stay attached to baseball for other reasons.

It can be done. I dropped the Pirates three summers ago, after 55 years of devotion, when they traded their future for a pitcher named Chris Archer. I’ve never looked back, unless it’s to hope they lose as often as possible. My enjoyment of the game has benefitted from the divorce.

The Reds are in a hole. It’s a deeper hole than they’ve ever been in. Bad results, bad vibes, ownership/management that has failed to build a winner, let alone maintain one. A community more interested in soccer. Could you have ever imagined?

I do keep an eye on the Pirates farm system, but it’s a dispassionate eye, wholly owned by cynicism. You could do likewise. Put your fan cap back on in oh, 2025, when all these prospects that are supposed to be so great start gracing you with legitimate hope.

As we say here frequently, “Prospect is baseball-speak for ain’t done nothin’ yet.’’

The Reds stole your summer this year. They’ve done that more often than not in the last decade. Don’t let them do it again. Baseball is beautiful. Embrace the beauty. Make the ugly win you back. They could start with .500 next year and a keg of lipstick.

Now, then. . .

JOE BURROW SAID he’s been dinged to the extent that he can’t remember parts of games in which he was a participant. Tua Tagovailoa had ankle and back injuries. Somehow, they spread to his brain. The most gruesome thing I’ve seen in the NF of L this fall has not been any helmet to helmet hit, or the Pittsburgh Steelers offense. It was Tua’s hand, upright, its fingers bent like an ancient cypress tree battered by 100 years of ocean winds.

Tua’s hand could have had its own Twilight Zone episode.

The NFL has a problem.

It’s an unfix-able problem.

Bigger/stronger/faster has outrun technology designed to protect against concussions. No space-age helmet is going to win against a 260-pound edge rusher/linebacker intent on backfield mayhem.

So. . . what?

Fans and teams already carp about too many roughness penalties. It’s a subjective call, which only adds to the carping. Andrew Whitworth said players know how to cheat the sideline tent tests. Tua’s team, the Dolphins, might or might not have done its due diligence before Miami visited PayJoe Stadium.

Players aren’t going to make things easier. They want to play. Even when they know they’re endangering their long-term health. If Burrow can’t recall parts of games now, is he going to remember the names of his grandchildren in 30 or 40 years?

On a more pleasant note. . .

TRIP REPORT. . . My wife and I did three days and two nights in and around Traverse City, MI. We’d never been to the Peninsula. We were wowed.

Stopped in Saugatuck on the way up. Pleasant town, very Cape Cod-like, but most of the shops were closed for the season. Made it to the airbnb 25 minutes from TC in time for a fire in the firepit outside our Tiny House.

Hiked all day Tuesday, in two places in Sleeping Bear Dunes NP. The first was along a forest trail, Empire Bluffs, that ends up with a postcard-perfect view of Lake Michigan. The next was among the dunes near Glen Arbor. Fantastic.

There is a quality of light there I’ve seen only one other place, Santa Fe, NM. Only Cape Cod comes close. Traverse City is a delightful little place in its own right, loaded with shops and restaurants. If you like sweet, cherry-flavored wines, you’re in the right spot. (We really don’t.)

I’d give it an 85, Dick (lookitup, kids), but only if the weather is right. We had two days of sunny and 75 perfection. I can’t imagine a vacation there, in the rain.

Catching up, via the Three-Dot Lounge. . .

Played 9 at MiamiView last week, with Bengal Boy and our gracious host Joe Carolin, aka Jets Joe. Yet another delightful West Side spot I’d never heard of, let alone visited. Great little course, nice outside bar. Thanks, Joe. . .

Also visited the Oregon District in Dayton last weekend. Left wondering if we missed something. Disappointing. . .

Trying a new app that promises major savings on perishable food, such as fruits and vegetables. Flashfood directs you to a local store that takes part. In my case, it’s the Meijer in Milford. Early returns aren’t enticing. No idea how fresh the produce is. As for the rest, well, a man can eat only so much hummus and vegetable dip, yeah?

Youse Mobsters frequent any of these places?

Ohio State beat Rutgers by 39. The spread was 40. Thing that makes you go Hmmm. . .

TUNE O’ THE DAY. . . Frequent Perusers know of my affection for REM. Here’s one of my favorites.

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