A Whole Lotta Tejada

While most normal baseball fans follow the successes and failures of their favorite teams, I’ve always been one to pull for my favorite individual players. This gets chalked up to there being no team based out of my hometown of New Orleans. While later stints in Houston, Los Angeles, and Oakland have at times gotten me caught up in certain pennant races, it’s still the joy of seeing a favorite player’s line in a box score that keeps me checking the sports section on a daily basis. Whether that be Kevin Mitchell playing all-purpose utility man for the ’86 Mets or Devon White slapping lead-off homers for the ’93 Blue Jays, it’s that quest for multiple-hit games and appearances on the leader board that keeps me most intrigued.

For the past eight years, it’s been Miguel Tejada who has dominated my interest in baseball.

To watch Miguel so quickly progress from a free-swinging prospect with the Oakland A’s to an MVP-award-winning shortstop within his first five years in the majors was something that made me feel all sorts of warm inside. Another symptom of my lifelong allegiance to New Orleans sports is the affection I reserve for underdogs at work. In the case of Miguel, it’s typically been him against the evil triumvirate of Derek Jeter, Alex Rodriguez, and Nomar Garciaparra. Had it not been for “fat fuck” Jeremy Giambi forgetting to slide into the plate during the most crucial moment of a 2001 divisional series between the A’s and Yankees, Miguel just might be sitting by his lonesome at the throne of modern shortstops with his AL MVP trophy, All-Star game MVP award and Home Run Derby title bolstered with a World Series ring that to this day I still have a hard time conceding to that lucky Yankee opportunist bastard Jeter.

Yes, the Baltimore Orioles tremendously suck. And if you ask me, Miguel has no place manning a ship built to sink. But the Dominican wonder continues to carry his weight like no other in baseball. For one, Miguel hasn’t missed a game in more than six years. If nothing else, the Orioles can always count on his dependable fielding and invigorating clubhouse leadership to set a shining precedent for his teammates. 2006 also saw Miguel record personal bests in hits (214), batting average (.330), and on-base percentage (.379). For the sixth out of the past seven seasons, Miguel reached the 100 runs batted in milestone. He also scored 99 runs. Miguel still grounds into too many double plays, but that’s only because he typically knocks the stuffing out of the ball.

It’s a shame that I won’t be able to watch my ace No. 10 get a crack at the playoffs this year. There were rumors floating about last off-season that he might be traded away from Baltimore to a contender. Personally, I wish Billy Beane would have just figured out a way to pay Miguel’s post-MVP salary in Oakland. But so goes the world of finance, I mean professional sports.

I did spend a year at the same Southern California high school as Jeff Kent. So a part of me does want both he and the Dodgers to fare well in their post-season endeavors. But cheering for the whitest man in America yields hardly the same excitement as pulling for “a whole lotta Tejada.”