Reflections from the Trade Deadline

At dinner last night, a friend of mine reminded me of the time when we attended a historic Orioles comeback during the Dark Period. Looking back, I wondered how did we ever root so enthusiastically for such a horrible team? Don’t get me wrong – I’m no bandwagoner. I don’t require that the team win, lest my interest and passion  wane. After all, we started the podcast without any suspicions that the team would be good.

2012+ has been amazing. The Orioles are no longer the laughing stock of baseball. I have been able to attend playoff games, and watch meaningful wins and losses. The “meaningful” part is important. There was a time when my favorite game I had attended was the Opening Day in a lost season, which was important to me, only because a Yankees game at Camden Yards drew more passionate Orioles fans than Yankee turncoats – for once. And the Orioles won – for once.

Man, that is a sad statement on my place in Orioles history. Now? It’s a toss-up between ALDS Game 2, or the Cal Ripken statue game, when the Orioles seemed to declare that they were no longer doormats.  

It’s nice now, not having to generate enthusiasm. And that carries on to the players, as well. I remember connecting with players, not because of their talent, but because they were “good guys.” As prospect after prospect came to the majors, there was no real hope of them being the real thing. Maybe we knew at the time, and refused to admit it to ourselves. Now, we can celebrate players because of their immense talent first, and the fact that they are “good guys” second.

And this has made the 2015 trade deadline difficult, for me. As a fan who waited through 14 years of futility, I now watch a team that has a reasonable chance of competing. Sure, the 2015 squad is not as talented as the team that won 96 games in 2014, but at only a game out of the Wild Card and with an outside chance of making a play for the division, this is a team to watch in August and September – in the hopes of watching in October.

To make that happen, the team had to part with some players. Tommy Hunter was dealt to the Chicago Cubs, and Bud Norris was designated for assignment, to make way for a pitcher who wasn’t an absolute disaster on the mound this season. Trouble is, I like those players. Hunter and Norris represent a part of the return to winning, and by all accounts, are great guys.

I could write for ages about how these two were fun guys to watch. How their talent might not have been elite, but when they were on the top of their game, both could be dominant. But that hardly seems necessary in this space. Anyone who has watched this team intently over the last few years, has been treated to rooting for a team that is both likable, and good. These two contributed to both.

Both wore their heart on their sleeve when they competed. Both had a sense of humor that added to the baseball experience. When I look back at this period, I will remember Norris hopping off the mound before an inning-ending “strike three” had been called, and Tommy Hunter grabbing a ball bare-handed. I’ll remember Hunter’s antics in the bullpen, as the MASN cameras panned in to track Orioles’ home runs. I’ll remember watching Norris’ personality shine at FanFest. Really, my lasting impression of their personalities can be summed up in two single shots:

In the Dark Period, those personalities I enjoy would still be on the team, because there would be no hope of competing. And therein lies the double-edged sword of the competitive team: being good guys isn’t good enough. At the end of the day, they have to help win ballgames. Sometimes, that is going to be heartbreaking, as we fans get overly attached to grown men getting paid millions to play a child’s game.

So looking back, when I ask my self how did I root so enthusiastically for such a horrible team? – in many ways, I find myself answering that it was easier. The stakes were lower, and the margin of error was greater. At the trade deadline, there was less of a chance of parting with any of your favorite players.

So goodbye, Tommy Hunter and Bud Norris. You will both be missed in Birdland. Best of luck, wherever your travels take you – on and off the field.

And to the remaining Orioles – make their loss count. 60 games remain to make 2015 a season to remember.