James Paxton threw a no-hitter, Cody Bellinger bunted on a 3-0 count, and Shohei Ohtani is still great

Hello, and welcome back to This Week In Baseball, where I go over my notes and share them with you. T.W.I.B. Notes, if you will. And ...

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OK, then, welcome back to Grant Land, which is a playful allusion to both my name and Grantland Rice, a famous sportswriter from ...

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Uh, welcome back to Cool and Dumb Baseball Things?

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Yes, well, there were several cool and dumb baseball things this week, just as there are every week. Our job is to collect the coolest and the dumbest, while forgetting or overlooking several along the way. Come, join us for a trip around baseball, and remember that we’ll always start by remembering that ...

There are some of you who will accuse me of bias in this section, and I can understand that. However, allow me to state my case deliberately. Baseball is good because the Cincinnati Reds can sweep the Los Angeles Dodgers in four games at Dodger Stadium.

Note the verbiage: Baseball is good because the Reds can sweep the Dodgers, not because they did. Did you know that my entire essay for the Baseball Prospectus 2018 Annual was based on the idea that the Dodgers weren’t going to be bad again for another 30 years? If they’re bad, I’ll look dumb immediately. All I usually ask is that if I have to look dumb, that I look dumb several years down the road, so the Reds waltzing into Dodger Stadium and leaving with a four-game sweep makes me extremely uncomfortable.

However, the Reds — a team that is eternally this close to signing Paul Byrd and putting him right into the rotation — can sweep an expensive super team, even if that super team is absolutely reeling from injuries and scuffling. How badly are the Dodgers scuffling? To give one example, they can lose four consecutive games to the Reds at home.

So baseball is good, actually, because we’re forever reminded that it doesn’t care about our preseason predictions. It doesn’t care about what we’re expecting before a series starts. The last time the Reds swept a series against the Dodgers on the road, their starting infield was Rose-Concepcion-Morgan-Perez, while the Dodgers’ was Cey/Russell/Lopes/Garvey. It’s extraordinarily rare even when the teams are on equal footing. Except the Reds and Dodgers most certainly should not be on equal footing.

They sure were for four games, though. They won’t be in September, but for four games, we can remember that baseball doesn’t care about us.

This series also showed us that baseball is good for several other reasons.

Baseball is good because Pat Venditte is in the major leagues again. There isn’t a proper analog for Venditte in any other sport, and there won’t be until there’s a quarterback who can drop back and throw with either arm to confuse defenses. Baseball is unquestionably better with Venditte in it. I mean, the man makes a GIF of “baseball player puts on glove” interesting.

It’s the kind of slick, post-strikeout move that you would see fetishized in a John Woo movie about baseball.

Baseball is good because it contains human beings, and sometimes human beings are hilariously silly. Take Cody Bellinger, who was ahead in the count, 3-0, in the ninth inning on Saturday, with nobody on and the Dodgers down by two runs.

He bunted.

He bunted! It gets even better. There was a take sign on.

This is, perhaps, the best example ever of a player of average intelligence trying to eat baseball’s chess pieces when it isn’t looking. Baseball is always looking. You cannot get away with something this dumb, and you’ll just end up looking like an idiot, with a rook sticking halfway out of your mouth. At least try to eat the queen, Cody.

Baseball is good because Joey Votto will randomly decide to do this:

And baseball is really, really good because Votto has infected the rest of the team, which leads to Jesse Winker going full Votto.

So, no, I’m not just using this section to laugh at the Dodgers for losing four straight. I’m using it to highlight a weekend that was filled with cool and dumb baseball things, which is the point of this column.

Would you do the same thing if it were the Giants losing four straight, though?

This interview is over.

Oh, how sweet! Another no hitter. Let me just open this drawer filled with no-hitters, and place it gently on top. You shouldn’t have, baseball.

Except James Paxton’s no-hitter was outstanding, just like every no-hitter, for the same reason they all are: They’re little microcosms of why we love the sport. They’re luck and skill, tossed in a blender and pureed. Sometimes the concoction tastes like the stuff behind Pete Rose’s ears. Sometimes it’s a no-hitter. With Paxton’s, there’s an obvious spot of luck and skill to point out, and it’ll be the play that most people remember:

It was a tremendous play, and it deserves every last hosanna. But for my money, nothing was as no-hittery as the last out.

You’ll need to start with the second out of the ninth inning:

Teoscar Hernandez takes a fastball for strike one. He bluffed a bunt, at least while Paxton was coming to the plate, so he was determined to make this column one way or another.

The next pitch was another fastball, and Hernandez looked like a high-schooler hitting against Aroldis Chapman. That’s two fastballs, one swing, and he doesn’t look comfortable at all.

The third pitch was a fastball, and Hernandez swung right through it. Just one more out to go.

That brought up Josh Donaldson, who had watched the previous at-bat and had an idea that a fastball might be coming. Paxton threw a 98-mph fastball, and Donaldson waved at it. That made three straight fastballs that major league hitters couldn’t even make contact with.

The next pitch was a perfect fastball that caught the inside corner at 100 mph. Aaron Goldsmith bellows “100!,” because that’s something you’re allowed to do when a starting pitcher throws 100 MPH with his 98th pitch of a no-hit bid.

So now it’s 0-2, and you’re just one pitch away from a no-hitter. Your last four fastballs have been unhittable. What do you want to throw?

Mike Zunino wants to throw something off-speed, apparently. Silly catcher. Paxton shakes him off because he’s never had a fastball like this, and he can feel the electricity coursing through his veins. He wants the heat. Nobody can touch it, nobody.

Except Josh Donaldson is a smart baseball player, and when he sees a pitcher shake off a sign in that situation, it’s as if he tipped a pitch. Donaldson is no stranger to machismo, so he figured that he would get a fastball as hard as Paxton could throw it. And he murdered that fastball.

Right into the defense. As far as no-hitters go, this was the perfect example in an isolated at-bat. The pitcher was great, which is why the no-hitter happened. The pitcher was lucky when it came to specific decisions and plays, which is why all no-hitters happen. Neither Roger Clemens or Greg Maddux threw a no-hitter because they didn’t get that last essential piece, where they made the wrong decision, and it worked out anyway.

James Paxton threw a no-hitter, and the last batter of the game was absolutely ready to ruin it. There will be more no-hitters, apparently, but I’m not sure if there will be another one that ends with a metonymy of the whole no-hitter experience.

I had someone email me to complain that I’m paying too much attention to Shohei Ohtani. His argument was that Ronald Acuña is better. Imagine being that guy. Imagine being so tethered to the tribalism of sports that you needed a defensive stance against something as pure and remarkable as Ohtani.

It turns out there’s a baseball player who can throw 100 mph and hit baseballs 500 feet, so we should probably celebrate him.

Ohtani had a two-game stretch of weirdness filled with blisters and general ineffectiveness, but he bounced back with his fifth start of the year against the Mariners. In his latest start, he went against the free-swinging Twins. How did it go?

He struck out a bunch of hitters on a split-finger while wearing a pink hat to tell his mother that he loved her. Just the most thoughtful guy ...

As someone who has watched 488 games in Coors Field, not including the ones I see when I close my eyes at night, please believe me when I suggest that this is more impressive than 11 strikeouts:

Yes, yes, yes, Ohtani did actually rip a double and a homer this week, so we don’t need to focus on batting practice. But I’m not sure if you’re appreciating just how far that ball went. That’s the right-center gap. Even if we’re talking about Coors Field, baseballs should not go there. And I’m absolutely desperate to see video of that home run, even if it certainly doesn’t exist.

Which brings me to one of my platforms for my 2020 presidential run: Record Every Batting Practice.

It would take a couple of cameras. You’re probably paying the people already. Have them set up, then take a smoke break for two hours. Done. Our reward is that we won’t have to guess and imagineer our way into appreciating the most absurd and majestic home runs that baseball has to offer.

Record every batting practice!

[crowd cheers]

Who’s with me? Record every batting practice!

[crowd is absolutely losing it]

And then delete them after, like, two weeks, to free up storage space, but only if nothing happens.

[crowd pauses, confused]

Record every batting practice!

[crowd cheers]

The whole video is worthwhile, of course, especially if you’re interested in underpaid minor-league employees chasing a gigantic snake with a rake and a bucket. Mostly, I like the GIF, which makes it look like the snake is sneaking down to better seats at the end of a blowout. Go get yours, snake. Take what’s rightfully yours.

Apropos of nothing, here’s a snake that I saw this weekend.

That might not impress you if you’re from Texas, like the people who watched that snake attack their baseball team. As a city slicker, though, I’ve decided to carry around a trident at all times, just in case.

Darin Erstad is coaching Nebraska, you know, which means we should take a break to watch him play football:

That is very satisfying, but it doesn’t change that he does not traffic in bat flips. And this was a glorious bat flip and staredown by one of his players, Angelo Altavilla. The only reason the catcher didn’t kick him in the butt and say, “Now go on, git” is because he didn’t think about it. And when the batter reached home plate, there were words there, too:

You can bat flip when a normal catcher is on the case. You can’t bat flip when a catcher with an ‘80s-ass mustache is patrolling, though. Ryan Fineman is only playing college baseball until he starts at the academy, and he will not brook these insults, no sir.

I’m mostly interested in the red-assery that is involved with a manager benching his own player for a bat flip. It would appear that Erstad was ... unamused.

That guy next to Erstad was me when my brother broke curfew and got busted by our dad. Anyway, it would appear that this unwritten rule was adjudicated by the manager before the other team got a chance.

At first, I was annoyed because I like bat flips and staredowns. The more I think about it, though, it’s kind of brilliant. Do you want to avoid your own players getting hit in the butt or head with baseballs? Preempt the unwritten rules. When a manager says, “Sorry, our bad, we’re taking care of it,” it diffuses the whole thing, even if you secretly appreciate that your player walloped a ball to Wyoming and stared at it like he was the first person to hit a ball farther than 40 feet.

I wouldn’t screw around with Papa Erstad, though. Once is OK. Twice, and you’re getting tackled before you round second.

I don’t even know why I’m wasting my time by addressing this nonsense, but you’re forcing my hand.

First, it’s impossible for a human being to expel flatulence with enough force to move his body. The average adult male is between 150 to 200 pounds, which means it would take unimaginable force. Somebody actually did the research on this, and for a fart to move a human body, it would have to be traveling at 37.6 million MPH, which is almost one-fifth the speed of light. Come on. That’s not even remotely possible.

Second, why would a baseball player be squatting on the field like that, just waiting to pass gas? That doesn’t make sense. No umpire would put up with that.

Third, the caption supplied by Getty was “Toronto Blue Jays third base Josh Donaldson (20) is brushed closely by a wild pitch and dives backwards,” which pretty much closes the case on this dumb, manufactured controversy. This was a picture taken during a normal baseball play and not ... what you’re suggesting.

Sometimes I think you’re just trying to get a rise out of me with your stupid theories. There’s no way that Josh Donaldson farted violently enough to jolt his body backward and kick up dust. It’s just not possible.

Please, for the last time, let’s stick to baseball. You absolute child.

OK, OK, OK, get the LOL Mets out of your system. It’s funny, if only because we’re so used to teams or players looking like bozos because they screw up on the field, and this gives us a chance to laugh at a bureaucratic error, which is an entirely different genre.

But take this opportunity to reflect back on all the out-of-turn moments in baseball history. The big discovery here is that teams batted out of order allllllll the time in the ‘20s. Here is a list of players mentioned in stories about teams in the 1920s batting out of order:

Apparently, the lineup-card technology back then was a little rough back then, so it happened more often.

On the other hand, I think we need more nicknames like Boob, Bubbles, Pinky, and Pid in today’s game.

Here, you’re Bubbles Lindor.

And you, you’re Pinky Donaldson.

Sorry, but we’ve decided that you’re Firpo Hosmer. Wear it. Love it.

Pid Kluber. Way better than a Corey. Let’s start collecting signatures, people.

boop

Couple of things that I liked about this, though. The first is this guy, sticking out his hat, which is 30 feet away from the ball:

The second is this after shot, in which about two or three people realize that a baseball hit this fellow human in the face and point.

He was fine. But while he was trying to catch it, there was another fan who knew what was going on:

Watch the GIF. That’s a man who is determined not to get booped. He’s making sure that ball doesn’t come near his face, and he’ll adopt a defensive position to make sure that doesn’t happen.

The guy who gets booped, though, sure gets booped. Right on the nose.

boop

Matt Harvey on the Reds, eh?

Pretty much. What my analysis missed, though, is that it would be extremely funny if Harvey were excellent again, just to spite the Mets. He looked good in his Reds debut, and I am absolutely welcoming of an unrealistic renaissance. Maybe he’s found his niche.

“Hey, these shots of tequila are covered in chili ... hell, yeah, this is awesome.”

— Matt Harvey, 2018

Here’s hoping ...

While I don’t want to focus exclusively on collisions, this one makes the cut because of the crowd reactions:

He’s interested, but he’s ENTIRELY too comfortable with the idea that the fish net is going to keep a large baseball player away from him.

Just a perfect reaction. This is what we were all feeling.

This kid looks like he has an adult hand for the first time, and the nails are painted blue, which is making him trip balls.

That is Zack Greinke, and he’s very much into this. I have questions.

Anyway, I’m not sure if the picture taken just before this is better, but it most certainly could be:

Either way, these are excellent baseball pictures, and you should study them. Christian Villanueva was thrown back by ethical fisherman, so you don’t even have to feel guilty.

McGwire
23 AB this week
129 AB for the season

3 HR this week
16 for the season

.261/.452/.652 this week
.302/.486/.736 for the season

Sosa
26 AB this week
168 AB for the season

1 HR this week
8 for the season

.385/.469/.538 this week
.339/.417/.530 this season

The best part might be that Mark McGwire’s OPS went down after his 1.104 week, which is a good way to illuminate just how hot he was to start the 1998 season.

For Sosa, though? Just a guy having a nice season, on pace for 31 homers. Every week I do this, and every week I wait for the inevitable breakout from Sosa. At some point, he goes bonkers, and I’m overflowing with anticipation for this bonkersisity And it never seems to arrive.

Will it arrive next week? Stay tuned, gentle readers, for I know not.

By special request, we have an entire team to look at:

A quick ranking:

It’s a fine list. But I’m pretty sure the search for the best spoonerism of all time isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

Moving spoonerisms to a team sport? I’m into it. Please send me all of your nominations for the best all-spoonerism team (grant.brisbee at sb nation dotom). Until them:

Like Mamb.