At the tail end of the St. Louis Cardinals' torturous 2007 season, a fan could be forgiven if he wanted to take his remaining thoughts on the team and keep them in his hat. Enough analysis had been made of the decline of former stalwarts, enough insults had been hurled at men wearing our own colors, enough prayers for a turnaround had been worried by the bedside. It was time to let go and wait for spring.
But one topic was still so inflammatory that even the meekest man would come busting out of his shoes to shout down whatever point had been made previous, fueling a maelstrom of continuing discontent. Two words could keep radio call lines busy for hours: "Anthony Reyes."
Through him, an ardent fan could argue nearly every kind of proxy debate. On coaching: "Was he ruined by his pitching coach's pitch to contact philosophy?" On craft: "Why couldn't he get that third strike over, or get that third out of a tough inning?" On intangibles: "Did he have what it takes between the ears to win?" On fortune: "Is he the unluckiest pitcher in baseball?" On biomechanics: "What happened to his missing velocity, and is his inverted W going to ruin his career?" On management: "Should the team have stuck with him at the majors, or will he always be an AAAA player?"
The debate reached such frenzy that a local sports radio host got himself fired during Spring Training in effort to find an answer – or a throat to choke – for "the Anthony Reyes decision."
In the eye of the hurricane is a 26-year-old in his final final option year, pitching in AAA with a trade value only slightly more battered than his confidence, hoping that the sun hasn't quite set on his time as a prospect.
As it turns out,
Once a prized prospect, he seemingly had turned a corner in 2005 – making 34 starts, reaching 200 innings pitched, and dramatically lowering his ERA and WHIP. At the age of 25, he became the team's ace. He started the 2006 and 2007 season openers, but weeks into the slow-starting 2007 season, his manager Charlie Manuel made a fateful decision: his ace was to become his closer.
This move opened a whole six-pack
of worms in
Somehow, the move worked. Myers pitched very well in the bullpen, giving his team a jolt of late-innings confidence and saving 21 games including five games in the last two weeks of September, as the Phillies finished their improbable surge over the Mets and, for the first time, experienced life on the other side of their infamous "Phold" of 1964.
However, this off-season,
management decided that Myers as a starting pitcher was too valuable an asset to
give up to Charlie Manuel's experiment. As such,
One side of this move has paid off well. Lidge has wowed the locals and much of baseball with his return to dominance, and earned an extension worth at least $37 million over the next three to four years, cementing him in the 9th-inning role for the foreseeable future.
However, Myers had contracted a bad case of Anthony Reyes Syndrome. His velocity is down. He's leading the majors in home runs allowed. His team is 1-11 in his last 12 starts. And his confidence isn't much higher than in April 2007, when he said: "I'm pitching like a scared dog."
Bob Ford, writing for the Philadelphia Enquirer, highlights a Phillies front office that appears flummoxed by Myers' confidence game as the trade deadline (and the expiration of his contract) approaches. Ford quotes GM Pat Gillick:
"We're kind of stubborn on this. We think Brett is a starter. It might be that he prefers to close, but we don't see a reason he can't start."
With the Phillies in first place, this debate has yet to reach a fever pitch. But, if they fail to hold off the challenging Mets, Marlins, or Braves, "Brett Myers" may be the two-word spark that fuels a winter-long fire.
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