MLB 2023 Season - The Winter Stove of Warmth

The last time the Yankees lost nine straight games (1982), no one on the current Yankees roster was alive

There is a palpable sense of urgency that surrounds the Angels this year, perhaps unlike any other before it. As if time is running out. As if what's next is too unnerving to confront. As if an ominous tipping point has been reached.

It's hard not to consider Arte Moreno's place in all of it. The latter half of his two-decade-plus reign as the Angels' owner has been marked by impulsive decisions that, when coupled with bad drafts and poor acquisitions by his general managers, compromised sustainability and helped squander the prime years of two of baseball's defining figures, according to more than a dozen people employed by him in various capacities during that stretch. His competitiveness has been admired, but many believe it has also hindered. And his actions over the past 12 months -- a period in which he invested in the present more heavily than ever before, all while entertaining the sale of his franchise and the potential trade of its most valuable asset -- have only raised the stakes.

In hopes of capitalizing on what could be their final season with Shohei Ohtani, and persuading him to stay in the process, Moreno's Angels put everything they have into 2023. They vaulted their payroll to new heights, promoted their best prospects aggressively, shed what little they had from a thin farm system in order to augment an ailing roster -- and then they watched it unravel too quickly.

The decision not to trade Ohtani before the Aug. 1 deadline has been followed by 13 losses in a stretch of 18 games, including a seven-game losing streak, dropping the Angels' playoff odds below 1%. Barring a late-season resurgence that would go down as one of the greatest in at least half a century, the Angels -- now 61-64 and nine games out of the final wild-card spot -- are poised for their 13th playoff absence in 14 years, an unfathomable predicament considering the transcendent talents they've employed in that stretch.

In the words of one longtime staffer: "It's been a decade of disaster."

Every minute of the past three years Shohei Ohtani spent on the baseball field was a gift. The most perfect ball-playing specimen ever to wear a uniform, simultaneously one of the best hitters and pitchers in a sport that for a century had demanded players choose one track or the other, Ohtani recalibrated what the game could be. He was baseball at its zenith. He is baseball, period.

What everyone took for granted, as he launched majestic home runs and unfurled unfair pitches, was the Faustian bargain underpinning it all -- that as Ohtani trafficked in the impossible, he was relying on a wholly imperfect vessel to deliver it. Ohtani's most formidable opponent was never the pitchers or hitters he faced. It was his body and its capacity to withstand everything he asked of it. Ligaments do not care about legend.

Ohtani being Ohtani, he reacted to the news that he had suffered a tear in the ulnar collateral ligament of his right elbow in Game 1 of a doubleheader Wednesday by batting second for his Los Angeles Angels in Game 2. Ohtani will not pitch again this season. He might need another Tommy John surgery. His already-complicated free agency, just two months away, is now even more confusing. And Ohtani knew all of it in the second game, which, in hindsight, makes a moment that looked so wholesome at the time so heartbreaking now.

In the fifth inning, Ohtani doubled -- you can still swing the bat with a UCL tear -- and awaiting him at second base stood Cincinnati shortstop Elly De La Cruz, a 6-foot-5, switch-hitting, homer-crushing, 21-year-old rookie wunderkind who also happens to be the fastest man in baseball. A full-blown unicorn. And even to him Ohtani is something different altogether. To introduce himself, De La Cruz extended his right index finger and poked 29-year-old Ohtani on the arm five times, chuckling, as if to say: Are you even real?

It's the sort of question anyone who watched Ohtani asked constantly. And Wednesday's lesson was that he's all too real -- not a baseball automaton sent from the future to transfix but flesh and blood. Like any ballplayer, always one pitch, one swing, one stride away from a muscle or tendon or bone or ligament failing. Ohtani took on more than any other player: starting for the Angels once a week and serving as their designated hitter nightly. The job and its level of stress chipped away, little by little. And even then, Ohtani never accepted training at a reduced rate to give himself a break. Why would he? The work got him to this place.

Well crap

Mariners kinda fun right now!