Saint in the Angels' Outfield

Over nearly two decades in advertising, I've been able to meet/work with dozens of professional athletes.

Luckily, the number of truly decent guys – Drew Bledsoe, Willie McGinest, Ray Bourque, Cam Neely, Troy Brown, Wes Welker, Warrick Dunn, Mike Alstott, the late Korey Stringer, Shaun Alexander, Maurice Jones-Drew, Ryan Grant, Greg Jennings, Earnest Graham, Chase Utley, Jorge Posada, Hanley Ramirez, to name-drop more than a few – has far outpaced the number of complete totolbags . . . and, trust me, there have been some A-1 toolbags.

(I won't name names, but one hotshot then-rookie RB showed up on-set wildly hung over and surly after attending what was an all-night, Kristal-fueled bash out in the Hamptons with Paris Hilton, Usher and the Kardashians – known in most sports/media circles as a Massive Cliché Party -- and refused to meet/sign a lone ball for the kid of a crew member who'd waited patiently all day; and one cantankerous NBA western conference guard held up an entire shoot while he disappeared for an unexpected haircut, prompting a certain portly, bald, beer-drinking, everyman, perfect game-hurling, Harley-riding, former MLB pitcher to only-half-jokingly taunt him for the rest of the day, whispering "pretty boy" and "beautiful" in between camera set-ups.)

But perhaps the single best guy of 'em all was hands-down Torii Hunter.

He not only came to the set prepared and actually having read the script – this is a rarity among athletes who often don't even know what city their agent has pimped them off to, let alone what commercial they're shooting -- he also said he had some alternate reads and ideas he'd brainstormed on the plane and wanted to try out "if that'd be okay with you guys and you think it will make the spot better." I just about fell over. When was the last time a pro athlete asked anyone for anything other than more PEDs or clarification on whether the underage hooker found dead in his Xbox room had indeed scratched his Italian leather couch with her spiked heel while crashing through the glass coffee table?

Thanks in part to Hunter's personable demeanor, the result was this parody soap opera commercial called "Interrogation," with Hunter deftly playing a bad cop -- check out the other webisodes, too, starring the just-as-amiable Chase Utley and Jorge Posada – an ironic role considering the tireless good work he and his wife, Katrina, do in the in the community. And his on-field work this season has been just as stellar: .313/12 HR/42 RBI/37 R/10 SB. Add to that his Gold Glove-caliber defense and the way his veteran presence stabilized that team in the wake of Nick Adenhart's tragic death and, well, the Angels have themselves a real saint.

I'm admittedly jaded at times. We all are. Especially now, when times are tougher for many, and people seem to be doing more talking than listening. (Truth be told, I'm beginning to regret adding to the mindless, babbling, short-attention-span theater that is the Twittersphere. I mean, Alyssa Milano seems like a genuinely nice girl, and, in my book, someone that hot who also plays roto baseball earns instant enshrinement in the "Standard By Which Other Women Should Be Measured Until Further Notice" Hall of Fame. But do I really need to know that she's ordering a yummy The Pie Who Loved Me® at Cold Stone right now?) And we're especially cynical when it comes to our pro athletes (see this classic piece from the Onion).

But I'm also more than happy to acknowledge when someone has worked hard and overcome a lot – crack-addicted father; sometimes had nothing but white bread and ketchup to eat; often slept on nothing but a towel -- to get where he is and is now making the most of his status, reach and resources (financial and otherwise) to help others.

That's Torii Hunter, folks. A player who'd be Riser each and every week even if he wasn't putting up terrific roto numbers. A man who's most definitely one of life's good cops.

RISERS

Mike Cameron: Has always been an attractive 20-20 candidate. And this year, he's already popped 11 HRs . . .with a disappointing 2 SBs. But the good news is he's hit .284, this for a guy whose career high (in seasons with 500-plus ABs) has been .268. That, and as Gleeman pointed out here, he's a surprising third in NL RAR (Runs Above Replacement) behind the scorching Raul Ibanez and perennial stud Albert Pujols. While the average should drop to the .250-.260 range – and keep an eye on the knee injury last night, but doesn't sound serious -- expect his steals to rise.

Russell Branyan: The 11 bombs aren't a surprise, primarily because his name rhymes with muscle. The .323 average is a surprise. A nice one. Not a Bruno's-nutsack-in-your-face one (though that was obviously staged). And while the average has to come down for this career .237 hitter, and his 23 RBI makes even Adrian Gonzalez ruefully shake his head and say, "Man, doesn't anyone get on-base for you?" the power will certainly remain and 30-35 HRs looks like a lock.

Brad Lidge: Owners can now back away from the Lidge. See what I did there? I replaced "ledge" with "Lidge" because that's his last name, and the old saying means that it's now OK for his owners to not consider jumping to their deaths from an tall structure of some sort, be it a building or bridge. He converted his 13th save last night, his fourth straight after looking real bad in the Bronx last weekend and starting the season converting only 8 of his first 12 save opps. His ERA (7.40), WHIP (1.77), BBs (13 in 24.1 IP), and BA against (.303) are still higher than an Amish teen on rumspringa, but he's at least back on track.

Denard Span: I watched him play a series against my Sox recently and he just looked . . .dangerous. Like he was spoilin' for a tussle, as my redneck friends like to say. And I liked that about him. Seemed like an agitator, a rally-starter, a spark plug. Every time I looked he was on base. And while his .299/3 HR/22 RBI/30 R, 11-14 SB isn't quite All-Star caliber, it's certainly more than his owners expected.

Francisco Cordero: He's quietly put up 13 saves with a 1.71 ERA and 1.14 WHIP. Won't blow anyone away Broxton-style (1K/inning) but he's just plain getting it done.

Over nearly two decades in advertising, I've been able to meet/work with dozens of professional athletes.

Luckily, the number of truly decent guys – Drew Bledsoe, Willie McGinest, Ray Bourque, Cam Neely, Troy Brown, Wes Welker, Warrick Dunn, Mike Alstott, the late Korey Stringer, Shaun Alexander, Maurice Jones-Drew, Ryan Grant, Greg Jennings, Earnest Graham, Chase Utley, Jorge Posada, Hanley Ramirez, to name-drop more than a few – has far outpaced the number of complete totolbags . . . and, trust me, there have been some A-1 toolbags.

(I won't name names, but one hotshot then-rookie RB showed up on-set wildly hung over and surly after attending what was an all-night, Kristal-fueled bash out in the Hamptons with Paris Hilton, Usher and the Kardashians – known in most sports/media circles as a Massive Cliché Party -- and refused to meet/sign a lone ball for the kid of a crew member who'd waited patiently all day; and one cantankerous NBA western conference guard held up an entire shoot while he disappeared for an unexpected haircut, prompting a certain portly, bald, beer-drinking, everyman, perfect game-hurling, Harley-riding, former MLB pitcher to only-half-jokingly taunt him for the rest of the day, whispering "pretty boy" and "beautiful" in between camera set-ups.)

But perhaps the single best guy of 'em all was hands-down Torii Hunter.

He not only came to the set prepared and actually having read the script – this is a rarity among athletes who often don't even know what city their agent has pimped them off to, let alone what commercial they're shooting -- he also said he had some alternate reads and ideas he'd brainstormed on the plane and wanted to try out "if that'd be okay with you guys and you think it will make the spot better." I just about fell over. When was the last time a pro athlete asked anyone for anything other than more PEDs or clarification on whether the underage hooker found dead in his Xbox room had indeed scratched his Italian leather couch with her spiked heel while crashing through the glass coffee table?

Thanks in part to Hunter's personable demeanor, the result was this parody soap opera commercial called "Interrogation," with Hunter deftly playing a bad cop -- check out the other webisodes, too, starring the just-as-amiable Chase Utley and Jorge Posada – an ironic role considering the tireless good work he and his wife, Katrina, do in the in the community. And his on-field work this season has been just as stellar: .313/12 HR/42 RBI/37 R/10 SB. Add to that his Gold Glove-caliber defense and the way his veteran presence stabilized that team in the wake of Nick Adenhart's tragic death and, well, the Angels have themselves a real saint.

I'm admittedly jaded at times. We all are. Especially now, when times are tougher for many, and people seem to be doing more talking than listening. (Truth be told, I'm beginning to regret adding to the mindless, babbling, short-attention-span theater that is the Twittersphere. I mean, Alyssa Milano seems like a genuinely nice girl, and, in my book, someone that hot who also plays roto baseball earns instant enshrinement in the "Standard By Which Other Women Should Be Measured Until Further Notice" Hall of Fame. But do I really need to know that she's ordering a yummy The Pie Who Loved Me® at Cold Stone right now?) And we're especially cynical when it comes to our pro athletes (see this classic piece from the Onion).

But I'm also more than happy to acknowledge when someone has worked hard and overcome a lot – crack-addicted father; sometimes had nothing but white bread and ketchup to eat; often slept on nothing but a towel -- to get where he is and is now making the most of his status, reach and resources (financial and otherwise) to help others.

That's Torii Hunter, folks. A player who'd be Riser each and every week even if he wasn't putting up terrific roto numbers. A man who's most definitely one of life's good cops.

RISERS

Mike Cameron: Has always been an attractive 20-20 candidate. And this year, he's already popped 11 HRs . . .with a disappointing 2 SBs. But the good news is he's hit .284, this for a guy whose career high (in seasons with 500-plus ABs) has been .268. That, and as Gleeman pointed out here, he's a surprising third in NL RAR (Runs Above Replacement) behind the scorching Raul Ibanez and perennial stud Albert Pujols. While the average should drop to the .250-.260 range – and keep an eye on the knee injury last night, but doesn't sound serious -- expect his steals to rise.

Russell Branyan: The 11 bombs aren't a surprise, primarily because his name rhymes with muscle. The .323 average is a surprise. A nice one. Not a Bruno's-nutsack-in-your-face one (though that was obviously staged). And while the average has to come down for this career .237 hitter, and his 23 RBI makes even Adrian Gonzalez ruefully shake his head and say, "Man, doesn't anyone get on-base for you?" the power will certainly remain and 30-35 HRs looks like a lock.

Brad Lidge: Owners can now back away from the Lidge. See what I did there? I replaced "ledge" with "Lidge" because that's his last name, and the old saying means that it's now OK for his owners to not consider jumping to their deaths from an tall structure of some sort, be it a building or bridge. He converted his 13th save last night, his fourth straight after looking real bad in the Bronx last weekend and starting the season converting only 8 of his first 12 save opps. His ERA (7.40), WHIP (1.77), BBs (13 in 24.1 IP), and BA against (.303) are still higher than an Amish teen on rumspringa, but he's at least back on track.

Denard Span: I watched him play a series against my Sox recently and he just looked . . .dangerous. Like he was spoilin' for a tussle, as my redneck friends like to say. And I liked that about him. Seemed like an agitator, a rally-starter, a spark plug. Every time I looked he was on base. And while his .299/3 HR/22 RBI/30 R, 11-14 SB isn't quite All-Star caliber, it's certainly more than his owners expected.

Francisco Cordero: He's quietly put up 13 saves with a 1.71 ERA and 1.14 WHIP. Won't blow anyone away Broxton-style (1K/inning) but he's just plain getting it done.



Ichiro Suzuki: On a 24-game hitting streak during which he's hit .406. And he's hitting for rare power, on pace for a career-high 18 bombs, albeit with fewer steals (only on pace for 29). That says to me that age might be catching up to his knees but his eyes and bat speed are still sharp/fast as ever.

John Maine: His last 12 IP have produced 2 Ws and a 0.75 ERA, bringing his season totals to 5-3 with a 3.75 ERA. And while he'll never be a K guy (41 in 57.2 IP), his BA against (.214) is nice and low and his WHIP (1.34) while not outstanding is below the 1.41 league average. Makes a nice throw-in if you're packaging a 2-for-1 for a better SP.

Luke Scott: It's getting to the point where it's odd not to see Scott with a 3-4, 2 HR, 4 RBI line in every box score. He's 9 for his last 22 (.409) since coming off the DL, with six of those hits flying over some sort of wall separating the stands from the playing field. And he now flaunts a .322/11 HR/29 RBI/21 R line in just 121 ABs. But he's 31-years-old, notoriously streaky and averaged .256 in the two seasons in which he played more than 130 games, so I'd put him in the sell high category. Cautiously.

Trevor Hoffman: Hells Bells, indeed. 13 for 13 in save opps. 15 scoreless innings to start the season, with not a single BB. A Vern Troyer-esque .120 BA against.

Mark Teixeira: The name of his next child, boy or girl? May. His favorite author? Louisa May Alcott. Favorite writer/director? Elaine May. Favorite guitarist? Yngwie Malmsteen. What, you thought I was going to say Brian May? No way, man, Tex is a big fan of shredder guitar with neo-classical metal compositions. Still, my point is, Big Tex loooovvvved May: .330/13 HR/34 RBI/1.138 OPS. Maybe the return of some guy named Rodriguez fired him up.

Prince Harry: So the younger son of Prince Charles and the late Princess Diana, has come across the pond for his first visit to the States. Despite centuries of inbreeding, he's actually a handsome young man. And despite a reputation for being a cheeky, loudmouth playboy prone for loudmouth gaffes and other trouble -- the Ted Kennedy of the Royal Family, if you will – he seems pretty grounded and grown up: reading with Harlem school kids and visiting 9/11 families and Ground Zero firefighters. He also raises money for AIDS orphans and other Diana-inspired charities.

But he's probably got a few questions about America, so I'll skip right to the answers:

1. Yes, we're almost all this fat. We ride those little scooters because (A) they're the only vehicles other than automobiles or ATVs who can sustain the weight of our 110 oz. barrels of Mountain Dew, yet are small enough to maneuver in and out of the buffet line during all-you-can-eat chicken fried steak night at the Cracker Barrel, and (B) sitting motionless (other than straw-sucking or finger-licking) like a giant mound of goo is just safer, as the chafing of our leviathan thighs is not only painful, it's a fire hazard when combined with most elastic waistband trousers.

2. No, I don't know if Dakota Fanning is seeing anyone.

3. No, I don't think Dr. Phil is a real doctor. But he once ran over a drifter on a desolate country road and left him for dead after stealing his watch and wallet. (The preceding was brought to you by the NBC Sports Department of Wholly Fabricated Statements and Impending Libel Suits.)

4. Yes, when you're walking down a city sidewalk and a clipboard-toting dude/chick approaches you and asks you to "take five minutes for the environment" even though you're clearly in a hurry, it's perfectly legal to roundhouse-kick them in the groin.

5. Yes, it's still the best country on Earth. Wanna fight about it?

Chris Carpenter: I'd say he had a nice week -- 14 IP, 1 W, 1.29 ERA, 0.64 WHIP, 15 K.

Gerardo Parra: With a 10-for-25 streak (.400) he's now batting .319 with 16 RBI in 69 at-bats since being called up. And though Gerardo hasn't shown much speed and sports a highly unsettling and uber-suave first name, he's being tried out in the 3-spot right now and, if he sticks, will make a nice deep addition to your OF, especially with Brynes and Young still struggling.

FALLERS

David Wright: I've been shamefully easy on Wright this year by (not on purpose) excluding him from the Fallers. But it's time. A top 5 pick in most leagues, Wright, aside from the .328 average, has -- face it -- been an overall bust. Sure, he's got 12 steals, but he's been caught 7 times. His past week was brutal – 3-for-23, 3 Runs. And the power outage – 3 HR, .475 SLG – has been alarming for a guy who's hit 30-plus the past two seasons. That said, I'd be all over him as a buy low since he followed a .280 April with a .378 May, he's running more than last year (only 20 SB attempts in '08; 19 already this year) and the power should come. Maybe not 30-plus HR power, but 25 isn't a reach.

Grady Sizemore: Ugh. When I'm wrong, I'm wrong – I advocated buying low on Sizemore last week. I traded Webb and Dye (in a keeper) for Sizemore myself. Now he's on the DL and might even need surgery, which would shelve him for up to six weeks. I still think he's good keeper material, but I'm so ashamed at misleading you all like this. Maybe it's finally the perfect time for me to change my identity, get some dorky glasses, flee my former life and start Clark Rockefellering my way around the world.

Rafael Furcal: We knew that Torre and the Dodgers would be cautious with Furcal and his creaky back. .245 AVG, only 9 of 45 hits for extra bases, 3 of 6 SBs.

Ryan Zimmerman: After a sizzling start, his last ten games have produced a paltry 5-40 (.125) with 1 HR and 4 RBI. Hope you sold high.

Francisco Liriano: Giant, red plastic gasoline container? Meet roadside flare. I always say not to take it personally, but I think Liriano is out to get me. Now 2-7 with a 6.60 ERA, 1.62 WHIP -- 13.50 ERA over his last two starts – he's showing no confidence/accuracy with his once-devastating slider, can't bust guys inside anymore, and his fastball is practically on a tee. And now there's chatter of his being moved to the bullpen to get his head on straight. If he can't right himself vs. the Mariners this Friday night, then I'm going to do what I always preach not doing: cut his ass out of pure, juvenile spite.

Josh Hamilton: See Sizemore, Grady. Another first-round outfielder who might be more hurt than he's letting on. Ugh.

Pan-handlers who do nothing but say, "Spare some change": I'm not an uncompassionate person. Really. I often give money to homeless people because, hey, everyone goes through hard times and I believe in karma. But I only have one donation requirement: unless they're obviously mentally ill or dragging themselves around on a skateboard using hook-hands, they have to actually be doing something to earn my money. Case in point, there used to be a guy outside one of my old office buildings. Looked like someone you'd see in the gutters of Calcutta, not in Boston's trendy Back Bay – sunburned face (even in winter), two gnarled, curled-up legs and two spindly little arms, neither of which had hands, only tiny, fingerless nubs. And, yet, there he was every day, rain or shine, playing a harmonica held between those two nubs. But even more amazing, he seemed to be enjoying himself, the soleful blues tunes ironically making him make him look happy, dare I say even peaceful. (Oh, and he actually did roll around on a little raggedy skateboard contraption.)

Meanwhile, not far away, at the end of Newbury Street slumped in front of Starbucks and J.P. Licks, there was always this college-aged dude who looked more hungover and purposely unkempt (like all his other nearby skate-rats) than actually homeless or mentally ill. And the few times I passed him he practically sneered at me, "Hey, man, gimme some change," as if I'd borrowed a couple quarters to play Pleiads back in '82 and had been dodging him ever since. I always said, Sorry, man, don't have any. But one time he had the balls to say, "Aw, come on, man, I can hear it jingling in your pocket, give it up," prompting me to stop, turn around, slowly walk back to him, smile, and say, "I'm sorry, I wasn't clear…I meant, 'I don't have any change for you.'" I then made sure to swing by harmonica guy on the way back to work and drop a $10 spot in the little red, plastic basket he must have gotten from the Rattlesnake, a nearby burger-and-fries/burrito joint. He nodded at me, smiled, but, as always, kept on playing.

Ervin Santana: 4 starts. 0-2. 31 hits and 19 ER in 18 IP. 9.50 ERA. 2.22 WHIP. But he's coming off a breakthrough season -- 16-7, 3.49 ERA, 1.12 WHIP, 214 Ks – and his fastball-slider combo will take a little time to get cranked up as he regains strength after his injury. So if his owner is firesale-ing him after being shelled by the lowly Mariners offense, jump on it. Just don't give up too much.

Eric Stoltz: Had absolutely no idea Rocky Dennis even played for the Dodgers. How the hell did they find a hat that fits? Wait…what? Eric Stults? Oh -- duh. Sorry. Anyway, I'm just adding him (A) to facilitate a cheap reach of a "Mask" joke and because (B) along with Brandon Backe, Stults, despite starting hot, is now a contender for the "2009 Player Who Receives Ridiculously Inordinate Number of Rotoworld Updates During the Average Week Relative to His Overall Fantasy Relevance" Award.

Edinson Volquez: He's out. He's back. Oops..he's out again. Now it's numbness in his pinkie and ring finger. Monitor closely but another DL stint looks likely.