Back in Purple

"Yip, yip yip yip" is amusing when it comes from the Martians of the Muppetverse. It's less fun when it describes a professional baseball pitcher who - inexplicably and suddenly - can't throw strikes.

(Did I just sneak a Muppets reference into a post where it had no business showing up? Yes. Yes, I did. It's the little things that make this place genius, friends.)

As I sit in my living room watching the Red Sox host the Orioles in the season's first game at Fenway Park, I'm as far removed from my rabid baseball fandom as I've been in years. But the game (and that place) still bring a smile. And the first week of the season still heralds spring and summer, which my toes - frozen from walking my dog in 25 degree temperatures this morning - desperately need.

One of the best stories from yesterday's MLB Opening Day happened in Denver, where the Colorado Rockies took on the defending champion Los Angeles Dodgers. Colorado beat the Clayton Kershaw and the Dodgers, 8-5. That's interesting, but the cool part of the story was the way the game ended. Daniel Bard struck out two and pitched a scoreless ninth inning to record the save for the Rockies.

Bard quietly pitched pretty well in 23 games with the Rockies during last year's bizarro season, posting a 3.65 ERA and striking out more than a batter per inning. Quietly for me, I guess (see above), since he did win the 2020 MLB Comeback Player of the Year award. Before that, you have to go back to 2013 to find evidence of Daniel Bard's baseball career. And therein lies the story.

The Red Sox drafted Bard out of UNC in 2006 after a stellar college career. He reached the majors in 2009, and played a key role as a setup man as the Sox won the World Series. Bard struck out 63 in 49.1 innings that season. He was even more effective in 2010 and 2011, appearing in more than 70 games each season with a sub-1.00 WHIP. Bard looked for all the world like the heir apparent to the mantle of next great closer.

Until he stopped being able to throw strikes. He lost his control, and the Sox spiraled themselves in 2012. Bard walked more men than he struck out that year. He pitched twice in Boston in 2013, and was out of the game - seemingly for good.

Anna Katherine Clemmons wrote a terrific feature on Bard's comeback yesterday for Charlotte Magazine. It tells the story of the time Bard spent away from the game. Or at least off the mound. While he battled mental challenges, he used his experience to mentor players in the Arizona Diamondbacks system. When the players he was coaching saw him throw, they wondered why he was coaching and not on the mound.

Finally, he decided to give it another shot. At the time, his wife Adair was nervous, “I knew it was a serious thought, which made me excited and terrified at the same time.”

The Rockies signed him, and Bard showed that the electric stuff of his youth was still there. And he showed that he could control it. I'll give Clemmons the final word, "However this season unfolds, Bard has his family, his comeback, and his shift in perspective. One key to control, it turns out, is letting go of it. It’s a game, he tells himself nowadays. Just go throw the ball. If you enjoy it, keep doing it. If not, do something else. “For a long time, I put a lot of pressure on myself that I had to live up to this expectation,” he says. “But life in general—baseball especially—only has as much meaning as you assign to it.”

(Okay, not exactly the last word. As I posted this, I noticed that we already had a 'daniel bard' label. I found that odd. So I searched it, and found this post from 2014. In it, I lament Bard's painful fall from grace, and hope that he finds a way back to the bigs. And so he did. Right on, Daniel Bard.)

Also, I did want an excuse to post this:

There But for the Grace of God

On August 31, 2011, Daniel Bard was one of baseball's most dominant setup men. The hard-throwing right-hander handled the 8th inning for the Boston Red Sox, keeping opponents at bay far more often than not before handing the ball to Jonathan Papelbon. Bard, then 26 years old, was widely expected to be Boston's closer of the future, except by those in the know that figured he'd find his way to the top of a rotation that also included Jon Lester and Clay Buchholz. He pitched a scoreless 8th in a win over the Yankees that night, striking out one and lowering his ERA to 2.03.

One week later, Bard walked three and allowed five earned runs in a loss to the Toronto Blue Jays, starting a chain of events that culminated earlier this week with his release by the Texas Rangers. In 11 innings that forgettable September, Bard walked nine batters, allowed 13 runs, and was charged with four losses, spiraling out of control as the Red Sox similarly spiraled out of contention.

Bard posted a 1.736 WHIP in 2012, walking 43 and allowing 60 hits in 59.1 innings. He only appeared in two games for the Sox in 2013, making his last major league appearance on April 27, 2013.

Claimed by the Cubs and then waived, Bard was diagnosed with Thoracic Outlet Syndrome and underwent surgery in February before being signed by the Rangers.

He faced 18 batters this spring for the Rangers' Single-A Atlantic League franchise, the Hickory Crawdads. None of those batters got a hit, and only one of them put the ball in play. But 16 of them reached base, nine via walk and seven via hit by pitch. Bard's 175.50 ERA and 13.50 WHIP are among the saddest, most cringeworthy numbers this side of Steve Blass and Rick Ankiel.

"Of all sad words of tongue or pen," wrote John Greenleaf Whittier, "the saddest of these, 'it might have been'". Watching someone tumble from such heights threatens us with our own sense of emotional vertigo - if that could happen to someone among the most elite in his field, what might happen if we stop delivering spotless TPS reports? Baseball mortality mirrors our own, forcing us to think thoughts we prefer to leave laying quietly unthunk.

Daniel Bard pitched for parts of five years at baseball's highest level, so he's not likely looking for our sympathy. But we're rooting for him to figure it out, because his potential redemption means we've got a few years left, too.