Last night's game, but I do think that our teams of the last decade have been missing "something".  I mean just look at the way the Warriors have been playing in the playoffs.  They play like they all have chips on their shoulder.  We take strike three's with the bases loaded in the playoffs and forget to touch home plate.  

Basically, what I am saying is I really just wish this team had a matt barnes.  Can you imagine if ellis went out and got a neck tattoo the size of a softball between games?  I think that is certainly something we're missing...

... and jack game winning hits.  I think firey personalities perform better in the clutch.  It's about having a flare for the dramatic, wanting to be the guy up in the important moments of the game because you just "know" you are going to get the big hit.  If you watch Chavy, or anyone else other than Scutaro, up in a key moment, they try and take balls to get walks because they are scared to take a cut and be the goat.  This inevitably leads to getting down in the count and then swinging at slop in 0-2 and 1-2 counts (Buck last night excepted because Papelbon threw a bad 0-2 pitch).  You don't see that out of the true superstars in the league, see: Vlad, Man-Ram, Papi, Miggy, etc.

and we know what happened there

In a long season, each game may bleed into the next.  If you get into a rut, sloppy play begets sloppy play.   Something, anything can be used to spike the intensity. Getting ejected every day won't do it, but some days, it might help.  

Especially if the manager getting ejected prevents the third baseman from being ejected.

I think one of the reasons fans and players get a boost out of seeing the manager come out and confront umps is because of the infrequency with which these situations occur in baseball.

In basketball and football, the head coach is a much more active participant throughout the entire game, calling plays, making substitutions, and working the officials.  Since the head coach is on the sideline in both sports he is just as visible as the players to everyone involved in the game and that also brings him into more contact with the officials throughout the game.  The players on a basketball team can see their coach working the officials throughout the game and know that he is doing everything he can to help them.

In baseball however, the manager plays a more passive role.  He sets the lineup and occasionally makes substitutions, but unless it's pitching change in the middle of an inning he does all that from the dugout where he can barely be seen unless you are on the field or sitting in the right seats close to the field.

The ONLY time a manager is really visible is when he comes out to argue calls on behalf of his players.  It's his only opportunity to really get actively involved in the game and I think this is why players and fans get fired up when it happens.  

I grew up in the Northeast playing hockey. I know that I was "up" more for some games or shifts than I was for others. Either because of the competition, or it was a big game,or whatever. I think this holds true for anyone who plays sports. Always play hard, but sometimes a little fuel in the fire helps. Just be careful not to burn out.
As always...
Go A's!

Perhaps passion and emotion are byproducts OF winning, which would explain, ostensibly, why it is a necessary ingredient.

Baseball is one of the most closely analyzed human activities, much more so than most of the programs our tax money supports. We have minute statistics and so many aspects of the game that we tend to think the whole thing is a completely understood phenomenon. All we have to do is look at the numbers and it all becomes clear.

That's an illusion, of course. While it's possible that we may someday be able to predict what pitch Curt Schilling is going to throw to Eric Chavez on the 1-2 count in the first inning, and whether he's going to miss his target or not, and whether Chavvy is going to take the bat off his shoulder or not, and where the ball is going to go if it is hit, and where the fielder is going to be positioned, and what kind of start he gets on the ball, and whether it's going to stay in his glove or not, and what kind of throw he's going to make, and what the baserunners are going to do, and which way the ump is going to lean on a close call, we can't predict all of that today.

We can say that Chavvy is going to beat Schilling one time out of four, but we don't know where or when or by how much.

All of the things that escape our statistical models are known as "intangibles", and we try to make sense of them by subdividing them into sub-categories of ignorance that go by names like "passion," "hustle," "grit," and "clutch." If Chavy's one-in-four success against Schilling comes with men on base in a close game, he's got "grit", and if Milton's spectacular catch saves a run in a close game he's got "passion." And we know which players have these intangibles because we carry around memories of close games that were tilted one way or the other by Marco Scutaro's bat or Chavy's fielding or Street's slider.

So it's legitimate to talk about these poorly-understood parts of the game, especially because they're the things that make it exciting to be a fan.

Emotion certainly plays a part in baseball, just as it does in all other highly significant human activities, such as love, marriage, eating, and business, and we can start the analysis of emotion and sports with a little science. Adrenalin gets people fired up, and it has some effects that are readily visible in baseball: a narrowing of attention and an increase in muscle strength. A fielder carrying a high adrenalin load is going to get to hit ball just a little quicker, but he's also more likely pull a hamstring or dislocate a shoulder in the process. Similarly, an adrenalin-tripping batter will hit the ball harder if he's not fooled by the pitcher, but he can also strain his back and maybe break a little vertebra.

Baseball players need to strike a balance of passion and relaxation to play the game at the high level that translates into major league victories. We don't know how to keep a whole team balanced at the perfect point, which is probably someplace a little different for each player anyhow, but that's where things like clubhouse chemistry and team leadership come into play.

It's probably the case that players and coaches who can fire up a team that's too relaxed are no more important than those who can loosen a team up when it's too tight. Strictly as a mathematical thing, there are so many players in so many different emotional states that no one approach to emotional balance is perfect all the time. It's situational, like so many other things.

One of the things I like about the team the A's are putting on the field these days is the blend of rookies and younger  players looking to make their mark on the team with old guys like Piazza, Walker, Kotsay, and Loaiza who have wisdom to share. Sometimes this is a little silly (like when Swisher takes the role of mentor to Travis Buck and imparts life lessons on the young stud that he himself only learned last week), but it's an important dynamic and central game-within-the-game of baseball.

And all that being said, I really do miss Milton's presence in the game. His performance against the Tigers in last year's ALCS was the only bright spot in a dismal team performance, but it would have been awe-inspiring at any time in the season.

I believe it was the bottom of the eighth, with the Pirates ahead by 3.  The Pirates reliever, I believe it was Solomon Torres, throws at the A's hitter (and I completely forget who it was now) after a Pirates hitter had been plunked the inning before.  Totally stupid NL "gamesmanship".  Well, the benches clear, the A's get fired up, and bat around Jose Mesa who's forced to come in the 8th because of Torres ejection.  A's win the game - and just having been there, I couldn't tell you how much I thought the A's were simply cruising through a meaningless loss until Torres decided to throw at the A's hitter...