In this week’s Metro column, I boldly made the following claim:

[Manny] Ramirez is arguably the best active player to have never received an MVP award. He’s certainly the best active player to be so consistently snubbed; of similar players, he has the fewest top-five finishes without ever finishing in the top two.

But of course, Manny is far from the only great active player to never take home the trophy, and while I was cogitating about this column, I got to talking about these players with my co-conspirators here at UmpBump. We bandied about some other names of active players who have, amazingly enough, never won an MVP: Gary Sheffield and Jim Thome lead the pack, in my mind, and you could make a case for perennially beloved also-rans Derek Jeter and David Ortiz as well.

Sure, there are fantastic younger guys who haven’t won the trophy yet. But when it comes to the David Wrights, Chase Utleys, and Hanley Ramirezes of baseball, one can say, “Hey, he’s still young.” And there are deserving players who are always a long shot to take home the hardware simply by virtue of their position; most pitchers and designated hitters suffer this fate. (I’ve included Ortiz here on my list of snubs because a) yes, I’m a Red Sox fan and this is my list, you jerks and b) he’s finished in the top 5 of the MVP balloting for the past four years running—a neat trick for any player, even more so considering the entrenched bias among many members of the BBWAA against voting for a full-time DH.)

But with the Sheffs and the Mannys and the Thomes, it’s a different story. You can’t necessarily point to a certain year and say, “This is the year he deserved to win,” but you’re still surprised to learn he’s never gotten the trophy.

Of active players, who do you think is the biggest MVP snub? Anyone going to take a stand for Todd Helton? Or Mike Piazza, still technically active? Any secret Carlos Delgado fans out there?

Who gets your vote?

more at twiigs.com…

Earlier this week I introduced you to Hoppy Papi, my new homebrew named after Boston’s favorite slugger. I showed off some of my beer label designs and encouraged you to send in your designs.

Loyal reader Wes went a step farther. He sent in a design for a Hoppy Papi pint glass. Behold:

Note that Papi is actually hopping in the photo.

A few months ago, inspired by some friends, my girlfriend and I started brewing our own beer. And we’ve never looked back.

There’s a homebrew store in town, called Brew Your Own Brew. They sell kits that make the brewing process pretty painless. All of the grains come pre-ground and dolled out in exactly the right amounts.

After a few batches we decided to take the next step. We decided to make a batch from scratch. This isn’t a huge deal. But it requires you find a recipe that you like. You also have to measure the grains and grind them yourself. And you need some additional equipment, like a large water cooler with a false bottom.

We decided to use a recipe that our friend James suggested, for a beer similar to Magic Hat #9. Here it is:

Grains
10 lbs 2-Row Pale Malt
0.5 lbs Crystal 60L
1 lb Wheat Malt
Hops
1.3 oz Tettnager (60 min)
0.5 oz Cascade (15min)
0.5 oz Williamette (15 min)
Misc
2 oz Apricot extract (secondary)
Yeast
White Labs California Ale (WLP001)

Instead of apricot, we used a combination of fresh mango and mango nectar from a jar. The result? The beer is slightly sweet, though not overwhelming. You can smell the mango more than you can taste it, which is ideal. Frankly, it’s probably the best beer I’ve ever had. Though, I may be a little biased.

We decided to call the beer Hoppy Papi, since there is a generous amount of hops, and since Big Papi says he gets his power from mango (salsa).

We’ve also created some beer bottle labels:

As you can see, our photoshop skills are a little rough. Are you a graphic wizard? If so, send us your Hoppy Papi label design. We’ll post the top entries on this site.

And bottoms up!

For this week’s Metro column, I felt obligated to talk about David Ortiz’s 3-for-43 slump to start the year. It was all anyone in Boston was talking about—radio call-in shows, sports TV, newspaper inches. Nothing was off-limits—people were talking about his weight, his batting stance, his knees, his schedule, his mindset. But I didn’t really want to chime in. I felt that this particular zone had been flooded. Plus, slumps happen. You know? I’m sure David will find a way to crank 30 jacks and get on base and OPS at or near 1.000 before the year is out. He’s David Orfreakingtiz! He’s only 32! The man they call Big Papi! Every time he smiles, a rainbow appears, an unseen band strikes up a John Philip Sousa march, and an angel gets its wings! He’ll be fine! He’ll be more than fine! But I didn’t want to write one of those “everyone take a chill pill, man” columns, because although they are sometimes necessary, they leave a patronizing aftertaste.

Then, on Monday, Coley wrote this post on slow starters and what they’re saying, and I read the following:

Jason Giambi (.107, 2 HR, 4 RBI) “If I’ve been frustrated by anything, it’s that I feel so good and I’m hitting the ball hard and I had nothing to show for it.”

That quote triggered something in my brain. You know how in movies, someone says something revealing and then the heroine gets a sort of spaced-out look on her face as she suddenly remembers all this other relevant information in flashback/voiceover mode? Like this:

Well, Giambi’s comment triggered much the same reaction in yours truly. And just as Scarlett hears, “Tara….Tara!….the red earth of TARA,” I suddenly remembered reading the following quotation about Ortiz:

“He’s hitting some balls hard right at people,” said Red Sox pitching coach Dave Magadan. “He hasn’t had a whole lot of balls fall in for him.”

The pieces all fell into place. Inside my brain, I heard, “BABIP….BABIP!….It’s got to be his BABIP!”

I cruised on over to David’s page on The Hardball Times, and sure enough, going into Monday night’s game, his BABIP was a miniscule .063. He’d hit a few more grounders than he usually does, and had a few more K’s, but given the small sample size we were dealing with, those differences were tiny compared with his jaw-droppingly low BABIP. I felt compelled to look for more low BABIPs, and the search quickly proved fruitful. Giambi’s BABIP was even smaller (.043 at the time). A lot of the Detroit Tigers had low BABIP’s, too. And in a particularly sad twist of fate, Alfonso Soriano had a depressed BABIP when Sun-Times columnist Greg Couch called him selfish compared with newcomer Kosuke Fukudome. Fukudome, said Couch, plays the game “the right way.” Fukudome’s BABIP? An unsustainably high .385 heading into last night. Nice one, Greg.

It seemed like the baseball world was overdue for a crash course in BABIP, so I rapped out the column and sent it in post-haste.

The very next day, while I was at the gym, I was watching NESN (the New England Sports Network, which broadcasts nearly all the Bruins and Red Sox games). Globe columnist Bob Ryan has a talk show on the network called Globe 10.0, and I listened in horror when he speculated that maybe there was something wrong with Papi’s eyesight—”You remember,” he said to his guest [I’m paraphrasing slightly], “What happened when Jim Rice lost his eyesight. That’s not the first thing people think of when a player’s in a slump, but you know, it could be…” I actually felt Red Sox Nation shudder at the very idea.

Moreover, I then read that Papi himself seemed to think he had some sort of mental problem (”I know exactly what I’m doing wrong. Everything is right here,” he told reporters while pointing to his head). Sure, you’re hitting the ball right at people, maybe start getting irate at a few borderline calls, and then you start doubting yourself, which leads to pressing and swinging at pitches out of the zone. In that case, it makes sense to sit the guy before he does himself any more damage, as Terry Francona did earlier this week. But the slump didn’t start in Big Papi’s head. And it’s not going to end there.

Finally, I think it’s really sad that Miguel Cabrera, another slow starter with a low BABIP, said, “I feel bad. I feel like everybody’s behind me, laughing.” And the more I thought about it, the sadder it seemed.

Outside of maybe a few fantasy baseball bloggers, no one knew about the BABIP situation—not the media, not the sluggers themselves, not even the managers and front offices. And now real people were suffering because of it! Bob Ryan has perhaps just convinced thousands of viewers that David Americo Ortiz will pull a Jim Rice on us (as if we didn’t have Lasik now, anyway) and have his last 20-homer season at 33. David himself thinks he’s mental. And poor little Miguel Cabrera thinks we’re all laughing at him! This cannot be.

BABIP! Spread the word and put power back in the hands of the people. Peace.

David Ortiz (.070, 1 HR, 3 RBI) “I’m just trying to figure things out for a minute so I can go back to being Big Papi again. You see this in baseball, where a guy will have a hard time, go home, chill out and come back with a fresh mind. It happens to everybody. I always do what Terry tells me to do. I’m an employee.”

Jason Giambi (.107, 2 HR, 4 RBI) “If I’ve been frustrated by anything, it’s that I feel so good and I’m hitting the ball hard and I had nothing to show for it.”

C.C. Sabathia (0-2, 11.57 ERA) “Of course people are going to say that — what else could be the reason?” he said. “It can’t just be that I’m pitching bad. It’s got to be something bigger; why not that? I don’t really care how it looks or seems. I can’t control what people think. I’m just trying to get it right and win baseball games.” — on whether his struggles are caused by contract-year pressure.

Jose Reyes (.225, 0 HR, 6 RBI) “I’m gonna get there. I want to finish my career here.”

Prince Fielder (.222 AVG, 0 HR, 6 RBI) “This game is all mental, anyway. It’s never physical” (so don’t even think about blaming this on my weight or my new vegetarian diet, asshole).

Miguel Cabrera (.175 AVG, 1 HR, 2 RBI) “It’s bad. I’m playing bad. … I feel bad. I feel like everybody’s behind me, laughing.”

Kenny Rogers (0-3, 6.75 ERA) “I’m supposed to be consistent and I was very uncomfortable out there and inconsistent.”

Andruw “The Tubbo” Jones (.100 AVG, 0 HR, 1 RBI) “Do I have to be sad all the time? My mom is still living, my dad is still living, and my mom thinks I’m fine and that’s what matters.”

Today ESPN reports something that many Red Sox fans already took for granted: Big Papi is perfect.

According to the world wide leader, “Boston designated hitter David Ortiz became the seventh player to earn a perfect 100 in the annual statistical compilation issued Wednesday by the Elias Sports Bureau, which uses a formula players and owners negotiated in 1981.”

What does that mean, exactly? Damned if I know. All the story says is that, “The formula for the rankings was determined by players and owners as part of their 1981 strike settlement.” Why did they devise the formula? What does the formula help decide? These are questions for which I do not have answers (I’ll let Paul or Nick answer them in the comments section). But I gotta tell ya, I’ve got my doubts about any formula that says that Mike Lowell had a better season than A-Rod. I love ya, Mike. Love the eyebrows. But let’s be real.

Regardless of its significance, one thing the perfect 100 statistical ranking is good for is sparking conversation. And so I leave you with the text of an email discussion that went down this morning, between Paul, Sarah and Nick. Enjoy.

(But first, some context: while Paul and Sarah chatter amicably over the internets, they have never met)

To: Umpbump Staff
From: Paul
Subject: I can hear Sarah laughing already…
And I have no idea what she sounds like. So… That’s kind of odd.
http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?id=3088975

To: Umpbump Staff
From: Sarah
Subject: Re: I can hear Sarah laughing already…
like this: BAHAHAHAHA. except i think, on this particular occasion, that a more evil, snide, “muahahahahHAHAHAHA!” is appropriate. of course big papi is perfect. this is news to some people?? and folks said he was having an “off year.” fools. fools!

To: Umpbump Staff
From: Paul
Subject: Re: Re: I can hear Sarah laughing already…
i was talking more about Lowell rating higher than A-Rod

To: Umpbump Staff
From: Sarah
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: I can hear Sarah laughing already…
Oh. Yeah. That too.
Mark my words, those Yankees are going to come a-calling for Mikey Lowell. They are going to offer him a lot of money and more years than they should, and they are going to try and crowbar him away from the Red Sox.

To: Umpbump Staff
From: Nick
Subject: Re: Re: Re: I can hear Sarah laughing already…
Mike Lowell rates higher than A-Rod because that crazy system was designed in 1981 and loves batting average more than anything. Hence Ortiz scoring 100 because his average was way up this year. The system also loves RBI, SB, and fielding percentage, but it doesn’t even consider runs scored, OBP, or caught stealing, let alone WARP3.

To: Umpbump Staff
From: Sarah
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: I can hear Sarah laughing already…
“Captain, the Romulan craft is hailing us.”
“Open a channel, Worf.”
“Captain Picard, we seek only to pass peacefully through this quadrant.”
“Captain, he’s hiding something.”
“Thank you, Troi. Worf, get us out of here. WARP3.”

To: Umpbump Staff
From: Paul
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: I can hear Sarah laughing already…
Sarah, I know you’re mocking us for being geeks. But it’s very bold of you to mock us geeks by quoting Star Trek.

To: Umpbump Staff
From: Sarah
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: I can hear Sarah laughing already…
I am nothing if not bold. All those hours of TNG (all those VHS tapes of TNG still in my parents’ attic!) did not go for naught.

On the one hand, I will be sad when this World Series is over, for it will mean that summer is over, winter is here, and months upon months of suffering an arid, baseball-less television landscape.

But on the other hand, I will be unspeakably happy. For once this World Series is over, it will mean the end of this nonsensical debate over what Terry Francona should do to his lineup in Coors Field. Some of the alternatives being bandied about are positively Byzantine in scope. The two most popular:
Option A: Put Ortiz at first! Move Youkilis to third base! Put Lowell in at shortstop! Bench Lugo!

Option B: Put Ortiz at first! Move Youkilis to right field! Bench J.D. Drew!

This just goes to show that Red Sox Nation in October is incapable of keeping its collective head. People have gone temporarily insane. The only remedy for this madness? Remind ourselves of certain facts:

Fact: Mike Lowell has never played shortstop. Mike Lowell only has 9 games played at a position other than third base, compared with 1,253 games played at third base. Mike Lowell holds the all-time National League record for the fewest errors committed by a third baseman. You do not want to move Mike Lowell from third base.

Fact: Kevin Youkilis has never played right field. Though the receptionist in my ophthamologist’s office tried to contradict me on this fact this morning, I have now double-checked ESPN.com and confirmed this indisputable fact. It is true that he has a whopping 18 games in left field, but I am sure none of those games involved left fields as expansive as the left field at Coors. Kevin Youkilis sweats hard enough in the batter’s box. The very notion of seeing him huffing and puffing his way to and fro across the vast Coors outfield should come with a warning label: CAUTION: MAY CAUSE DEHYDRATION.

Fact: J.D. Drew’s bat, for reasons known only to itself, has chosen this moment to awake, throw some clothes on, and join the party. J.D. Drew is hitting .349 in October and .500 over the past seven days. You do not want to bench J.D. Drew.

Then there’s the simple truth that Terry Francona is not a “tinkering” manager. Terry Francona is a manager whose motto is, “First, do no harm.” Terry Francona is not going to choose Game 3 of the World Series to suddenly start cooking up wild experiments like converting his third baseman to a shortstop or his first baseman to a right fielder.

So what will we see in Coors? There are two options, neither of them as attention-grabbing as the two options above, but both far more likely to occur:

Scenario 1: Ortiz starts at first base. Youkilis is ready to come off the bench either as a defensive replacement, or if David’s knee starts bothering him, or, in a close game, the half-inning after David draws a walk and comes out for a pinch runner.

Scenario 2: Youkilis starts at first base. Until, with runners in scoring position, the Red Sox in need of a run, and Lugo up to bat, David Ortiz suddenly becomes the world’s most insanely overqualified pinch-hitter.

Of these, I think Scenario 1 is more likely. As hot as Kevin Youkilis has been in the postseason, David Ortiz is still David Ortiz. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still a lot of offense with Youkilis starting: this postseason, he’s actually been slightly more productive than Ortiz with 4 homers, 1o RBI, 9 walks, 19 hits, and 16 runs scored; Ortiz is actually lagging just thismuch behind his teammate with 3 homers, 8 RBI, 13 walks, 15 hits and 15 runs scored. But Scenario 1 gives Terry Francona more options, which a manager can never have too much of in October.

Unless, of course, you’re talking about inane, pie-in-the-sky options like rewiring the entire roster with only two wins to go.

UPDATE: It is as I predicted.

When the World Series shifts to Colorado, the DH will dissappear and the Red Sox will be forced to sit either David Ortiz, Mike Lowell or Kevin Youkilis.

Sox skipper Terry Francona has indicated he’ll sit Youkilis, who has been the hottest hitter on the planet during the playoffs. He’ll play Papi at first

Me, I’d sit Papi. But I’m a wild man. If I was a team owner, I’d be a maverick. If I was a closer, Joe Buck would call me a “beauty”. I’m just that crazy.

Who would you sit?

Who should the Red Sox sit during games 3, 4 and (if necessary) 5 of the World Series?

more at twiigs.com…

Let us rise (yet again) in praise of David Americo Ortiz.

It might be true that we praise David Ortiz a lot on this site, but this time it is truly merited, as Ortiz is currently in the midst of one of the greatest periods of sustained excellence in baseball post-season history.

I think most baseball fans probably have some sense that Ortiz has been hitting wel in the playoffs of late, but I was floored when I actually took a look at the numbers.

From the start of the 2004 postseason through game one with Cleveland, Ortiz has played in 19 postseason games, batting .434 with 8 home runs, 23 RBI, and a .561 on-base percentage. Breaking down those numbers, he has hit safely in 33 out of 76 at-bats, and reached base in 55 out of 98 plate appearances, and has launched a home run once every 9.5 at-bats. Two of those home-runs were game-winning walk-off shots, and he also added a walk-off single.

Just looking at this year’s performance so far, Ortiz has reached base in 16 out of 18 plate appearances, going 7-9 with 8 walks and a hit-by-pitch, for a .778 batting average and an .889 on-base-percentage.

I think most of us can agree with the assumption that it’s harder for hitters to put up as good numbers in the postseason as they do in the regular season, given that most teams essentially go with a three-man rotation of their top three hurlers and only pitch the top half of their regular-season bullpen. Which just makes Ortiz’s numbers that much more amazing. Is there anyone we can think of who has hit that well for that many postseason games in a row?

Reggie Jackson got nicknamed “Mr. October” for his post-season heroics. If this continues, Ortiz is going to need a special postseason nickname too.

Sometimes, when I get sad, I think of David Ortiz. So today, with Boston’s once-14.5 game lead over the Yankees now a minute 2.5 games, shall I dwell on Eric Gagne? Or shall I consider Big Papi? Friends, I choose the latter.

It’s been common knowledge this season that David Ortiz has “struggled.” But then, just the the other day, I received the following intriguing “stat of the day” from Baseball Prospectus:

Top 5 2007 Designated Hitters, by VORP

Player, Team, EqA, VORP

David Ortiz, BOS, .334, 75.7
Jim Thome, CHA, .304, 35.9
Gary Sheffield, DET, .293, 34.3
Jack Cust, OAK, .314, 31.8
Jose Vidro, SEA, .281, 28.0

That is pretty freakin’ ridiculous. Ortiz’s VORP is  over twice that of the second-best DH in baseball! And this in an “off-year” for the mighty slugger. How could this be? Clearly, our impression of Ortiz this year had been distorted because of last season’s power surge. In 2006, he slugged a ridiculous number of home runs for a second straight season of clutch-hitting awesomeness. Thus, this year, he appeared merely excellent, instead of alien-from-outer-space-esque. He’s thirteenth in the league with runners in scoring position (.340 this afternoon) and, despite playing hurt all year, still has 31 homers and 107 RBI. His .321 average, .435 OBP and 3 (count ‘em!) stolen bases are all career highs. His 47 doubles match his career best (in 2004). Yes, his SLG of .596 is at its lowest point since 2003, and that’s sad. But the ability to adapt; the ability to accept that yes, that knee is not strong enough to give him the PapiPower to drive the ball over the shift and into the bullpen; the ability to admit he’s going to have to go the opposite way or continue to get foiled by the shift; these personal and professional qualities have been key for David this season. Add that to the fact that Manny Ramirez, David’s protection in the lineup, has been having a power outage this year as well, and the lovable lug’s accomplishments in 2007 look even more impressive.

Remember, sports fans, you read it here: David Ortiz is not having an off-year.