Royals: Through the years, plenty of reasons to be thankful
There was never a time when the Kansas City Royals were not a part of my life. And, for that, I will be forever grateful.
I have been raised on Royals baseball since birth. It was not like I ever had a choice, my baptism into Royals baseball occurred in the crib. Cheering for and arguing about the Royals with my father and my uncles are some of my earliest memories. I was also fed Chiefs football and Jayhawks basketball along with my baby bottles, but Royals baseball always felt just a little different.
I have invested more in the Royals. More time, more emotions. So I expect more from them than I do my other teams. With them, the connection is deeper, more personal. Royals baseball is a connection to family, to home. And, maybe because of that, I am more critical.
The picture in the tweet below is of me attending my first Royals game. The year was 1979. I was 2 years old. My father is taking a picture of me on my mother’s lap. I wish there was anything today that made me feel as excited as a Royals game did when I was that chunky toddler. Even back then, apparently, I was embarrassing myself by screaming at things no one else in the crowd noticed.
Being a Royals fan, for me, has always been more than cheering for a team. I have been in a committed relationship with them my entire life. It hurt me when they were a punchline and I felt a weight being lifted when they finally achieved redemption. It was a redemption of my own, in some ways.
Memories of the biggest wins in Royals history stay with me. Always there, in the back of my mind, like old friends that I rarely see but never forget. And the reminders of the epic losses still hold a familiar sting.
I can remember sitting right next to my father on the couch on Saturday afternoons, even when we were not on the best of terms, watching This Week in Baseball together. We were just hoping to catch a glimpse of a Willie Wilson highlight. And, if they failed to show one, we blamed Mel Allen for the slight.
Way back in the 1980s you could not always count on a Royals game to be on television. Heck, it was a treat when it happened. But you could always count on the radio broadcast being played during the game. Denny Matthews was the soundtrack of my boyhood summers.
Entering Royals Stadium back in those days, back before it was the K back before the seats were all blue, brought up smells of concrete and water fountains and more concrete and pure exhilaration. That memory remains fresh to me. It was better than entering Worlds of Fun, as anxious as bedtime on Christmas Eve. The most thrilling team in the world played there and I got to feel like I was a small part of it.
My chosen career has moved me all over the country. But keeping up with the Royals, no matter how much they lost, was never a consideration. As an adult I left the religion that I was raised on, but it never even entered my mind that cheering for another baseball team was an option. And, even though it may not always seem like it, I am thankful for all that the Royals have given me.
One of the reasons for which I am most thankful to the Royals is having such a wonderful team to follow during my childhood.
In the 1980s, the Kansas City Royals finished above .500 seven times. They finished with 90 wins or more 4 different times. They never lost 90 games in a single season. Never. They made the playoffs four times and played in the World Series twice.
But, the winning percentage of the 1980s does not begin to represent just how amazing those Royals teams were. They were cool. Yes, they won a lot of games. But, most importantly to young fans like me, they looked badass while they were doing it.
Did Willie Aikens struggle to field even a routine groundball at first base? Sure. But he also had the sweetest facial hair and he crushed baseballs. Frank White played his usually overlooked position so well that kids in the Kansas City area preferred playing second base over shortstop. George Brett spent the 1980s competing for MVP awards almost every season.
U.L. Washington was our shortstop. It is possible I dreamed this, but I swear U.L. played baseball with a toothpick in his mouth, like Stallone in the movie Cobra. And I know this for sure, U.L. was not short for anything. His actual name was U.L. That is a stratosphere of cool I can barely even comprehend.
The Kansas City Royals of the 1980s were so damn righteous they replaced the baddest centerfielder in baseball, Amos Otis, with the smoothest centerfielder in baseball, Willie Wilson. There was a time in the 1980s when you could look in the Royals outfield and see Bo Jackson, Willie Wilson, and Danny Tartabull.
I once watched Bo Jackson hit a homer to straightaway center and then later in the same game, after a strikeout, snap the bat over his knee like it was a toothpick on his way back to the dugout. I still cannot decide which image was more amazing. Some civilizations grow up with stories of myths and magic to entertain them. But, in my boyhood, the legends were real and the magic was on display all summer in Royals stadium.
Our designated hitter, Hal McRae, would define the new position for baseball. And, if that was not enough, he also wiped out so many second basemen while breaking up double plays that they changed the rules to protect future second basemen and named the rule change after him.
Our pitchers were guys like Bud Black, Bret Saberhagen, Mark Gubicza, Charlie Leibrandt, and Dennis Leonard. We had one of the first great closers in Dan Quisenberry. And, if those guys were not cool enough for you, we also brought in Vida Blue and Gaylord Perry at the ends of their careers.
Growing up as a Royals fan in the 1980s was a privilege. Those teams made it easy to love baseball. Every game, every at-bat, was a reason for excitement. And each year brought hope. And, the young kid still inside me is forever grateful to them. All of them.
The Royals may never have a two-year run better than they did in 2014 and 2015. Those teams were just special.
The James Shields trade woke a lot of Royals fans up for the 2013 season. Whether you agreed with the trade or not, you had to admit that the Royals were trying to compete. And, after years and years of not competing, it was a nice change of pace.
Suddenly, the games that were being played on the radio as much for background noise during the summer became, once again, worth listening to. With Ervin Santana and James Shields, we could at least expect to have a chance to win twice a week.
Then, something amazing began to happen. The team began to believe they could win any game. The 2014 Royals had no one hit to an OPS over .800. They had no one hit 20 homeruns. No one. But guys like Eric Hosmer and Alcides Escobar and Mike Moustakas and Salvador Perez and Lorenzo Cain always seemed confident they could get the hit when they needed to. And their confidence was never diminished, even when maybe it should have been.
During the 2014 World Series run, those Royals became the most self-assured professional sports team I have ever watched. Even those of us who spent decades just waiting for the collapse to come became convinced this team would do whatever they had to do in order to win. It became almost shocking when a comeback fell short.
By 2015 the young Royals no longer needed James Shields. They had young studs like Yordano Ventura and Danny Duffy. They had crafty veterans like Edinson Volquez and Jason Vargas. And, if those guys could no longer go, they had reinforcements from guys like Chris Young and Kris Medlen.
And, they had that bullpen. My god, that bullpen. Greg Holland, Kelvin Herrera, Wade Davis, Ryan Madson, Franklin Morales, Luke Hochevar. All six of those guys threw over 40 innings. The worst ERA was Holland at 3.83. Every one of them, except for Franklin Morales, struck out more than 8 per 9 innings. Wade Davis had an ERA+ of 448. I just like to type that and giggle. There may never be a bullpen quite like that again.
The thing that sometimes gets overlooked from that 2015 team is how good the offense was. We had 5 guys hit to an OPS over .800, six if you count Ben Zobrist. We had 5 guys hit over 30 doubles. We also had four guys with an On Base Percentage over .350, five with Zobrist. Moose, Kendrys Morales, and Salvy all hit over 20 homeruns. We were a free-swinging, frightening gauntlet for bewildered pitchers to face. We were so good we started a new trend of hiding our worst hitter in the leadoff spot. That trend would never really catch on elsewhere.
One of the best baseball memories I have is flying home from California in 2014 to surprise my father and watch Game 6 with him. Yordano Ventura would put on a show for the entire world that night. And our offense would pummel Jake Peavy into submission in the second inning. After losing Game 7 to Bumgarner that year, I assumed that Game 6 would be the highlight of Royals baseball for my adult life.
Then the 2015 season happened and it was more than I could have ever asked for. At times it felt almost unreal. There were so many amazing comebacks and performances and memorable moments that season.
But, looking back, the most incredible aspect of that team is how destined it all feels. How no matter how far in the hole they got, it always felt like Lorenzo Cain or Alex Gordon would make an amazing catch to save an inning, or some fool would try to take the extra base on Jarrod Dyson or Alex Gordon. Esky or Salvy would hit a pitch a foot outside or over their heads for a base hit to keep a rally going. Moose or Hoz would drive one into the opposing team’s bullpen when we needed it.
By the time Alex Gordon sent that Jeurys Familia pitch in Game 1 of the World Series soaring into the night, it felt like there was no other way that season could end. It changed the way I thought about Royals baseball. It reminded me that we could be great, we should be great, we were not relegated to second class. And as a Royals fan, it was a really good feeling. One I would like to have again. But for that feeling, for that remarkable run, I am eternally grateful.
The Royals are again in the middle of a rebuild with inconsistent results. The hope for the future lies in the minor leagues.
Alex Gordon will never play for another winning Royals team. All signs from ownership and management would seem to suggest we will not even attempt to field another winning team until Alex Gordon is retired. While that is unfortunate, it is understandable that a team may have to go through a rebuild of sorts from time to time.
What concerns me about the Royals right now is that they seem to be suggesting that they have to suck for five to seven years at a time in order to compete for three or four years. What concerns me, even more, is that Royals fans seem content with this setup.
My antipathy towards the Royals’ rebuilds comes from a place of love. I love the Royals. There will never be a professional sports team that means as much to me as the Royals do. But loved ones must be honest with each other sometimes. And, I honestly do not see the plan right now.
We have signaled we have no interest in competing in 2020. But are we going to trade Whit Merrifield to make ourselves better in 2022 and beyond? I do not think we will. Did we trade Ian Kennedy for a package including Joey Wentz when we had the chance? No.
I struggle to understand the plan that includes holding onto trade chips past their maximum trade value when we know they will be past their prime by the time we need players to actually win games that will matter. Our minor league system is not currently good enough to assume it will field a pennant-winning team in a couple of years. That is just not realistic. We need to make improvements, to add pieces.
Our 2018 draft was phenomenal. We will start 2020 with as much pitching as you could hope for moving towards the top of our minor league system. So, we need to make some moves to get some hitting that can accompany them to the majors when the time is right.
I ask a lot of my Royals. I expect better than consecutive 100 loss seasons. I expect them to field a product worthy of the Royals of the past. I expect them to respect the names of John Mayberry and Whitey Herzog and George Brett and Frank White by putting teams out there that are competing to win every day. I expect them to respect the fans. To respect the toddler sitting on his mom’s lap next season in the middle of summer bouncing with anticipation at the idea of getting to see his heroes play the game in real life. And from this two-year-old boy in 1979 to the middle-aged man I am today, I thank them for everything they have given me along the way.