Lightning has escaped from Tampa Bay’s bottle

By Elizabeth Finn

Every once in a while, a team will craft a season that defies all expectations—when the collective effort produces a result far greater than the individual pieces. Through some combination of luck, skill, chemistry, and sheer will, losers become winners and history is rewritten.

In 2008, the Tampa Bay Rays (nee Devil) had it all: a young, healthy pitching staff, pure athletes at the top of their game, a cavalcade of veteran role-players willing to show the kids how to win, and an unmatched tenacity that allowed them to elbow their way to the top of the toughest division in baseball and stay there.

Many believe that the fairytale began in spring training that year. En route to their Grapefruit League championship, the Rays encountered a bit of resistance to manager Joe Maddon’s brand of aggressive play. In a midday game against the Yankees, Rays’ infielder Elliot Johnson collided at home plate with Yankee catcher Francisco Cervelli. Cervelli would end up missing most of the 2008 season with a broken wrist. The incident sparked ire from the Yankees and led to a subsequent brawl. Though several Rays would face multiple-game suspensions stemming from the skirmishes, the team’s fearless play and impressive spring training record sent a message to the rest of the league that the once-perennial losers were willing—and able—to stand toe-to-toe with the “big boys” of the American League East…and maybe even beat them. It wouldn’t be foolish to look back and point to an incident like that as all the impetus a team with championship pieces would need to boil over into respectability.

Respectability, as it applied to the 2008 season, would have been the break-even point. But the Rays, whose previous franchise high reached 70 wins, saw their pitching stars align when their young rotation—products of club development and smart, frugal trades—seemed to reach maturity simultaneously, providing stability for an offense that actually saw a drop from 2007. Led by James Shields and former Minnesota prospect Matt Garza, the young rotation posted a 3.92 ERA. Such steady, confident performances from so many previously-untested pitchers are a rarity in a sport with as many unknown variables as baseball.

Confidence, however, was hardly in short supply. Bolstered by their solid rotation and a bullpen that had improved from worst in the American League to second-best, the Rays found themselves leading their division before Memorial Day. Perception around the league was of the new-look Rays as warriors–that the gritty old-school hardball they were playing was turning sure losses into improbable victories. The sentiment wasn’t simply anecdotal, either: by the end of the 2008 season, the Rays had amassed 45 come-from-behind victories, eleven of them of the walk-off variety. With every win, the team’s confidence and swagger grew. Whether they were as talented as they believed was immaterial; the Rays were a team that was learning quickly how to win.

In a sense, the formula for the Rays’ success was born out of necessity. With almost no on-field success came very little revenue, and the organization was forced to rely on player development. Benefiting from perennial number one draft picks, the Rays were able to stockpile premier talent viable for trades or, ideally, linchpins of a successful franchise. Young players on the 2008 Rays could count on playing time and plenty of it—the games were theirs to win or lose—and they grabbed the opportunity. Complementing and stabilizing the high-energy upstarts like BJ Upton, Jason Bartlett, and eventual Rookie of the Year Evan Longoria were a group of veteran role-players. Tampa Bay, forever a landing spot for low-risk veterans past their prime, became home to Cliff Floyd, Eric Hinske, and closer Troy Percival, who helped reinforce the solid fundamentals of the organization without overshadowing the youngsters, whose time had come to shine.

The story of the underdog is archetypal. Always heartwarming and often the subject of feature films starring Dennis Quaid, the tale of downtrodden loser turned triumphant winner despite near-insurmountable adversity is one that strikes a chord with the everyman, who no doubt has felt akin to the sad sack team. They’re fun to root for and own one distinct advantage: it’s easy to sneak up on someone when they’re not expecting you.

Problem is, the underdog story is a one-shot deal. Once the loser becomes a winner, the mystique is diminished. No longer do the Tampa Bay Rays have the luxury of surprising the league with expectation-shattering performances. This season, the American League, and especially their division rivals, have been ready and waiting to prey on any weaknesses, and the results for the Rays have been anything but impressive.

Make no mistake, the 2008 Rays did not win on reputation—or lack thereof—alone. They were a hard-working team built on sound fundamentals. But in losing their underdog status, they may have also lost some of the grit and toughness that are the true marks of a team with something to prove. In 2008, the Rays won 29 one-run games, outcomes that rely on a bit of luck—something a team with a lot of energy can create for themselves. The faltering 2009 version has won, thus far, five of their fifteen one-run games.

To be fair, the current team has been besieged by injuries. Former staff ace Scott Kazmir, whose promising career has been dotted with stints on the disabled list, is out with a quad strain. Second baseman and leadoff hitter (and half of the most efficient double play combination in baseball) Akinori Iwamura will miss the rest of the season. And Percival, sidelined by injury at nearly 40, is considering hanging up his spikes for good. But the Rays were floundering before the injury bug. Struggling to reach .500 and faced with a suddenly ineffective bullpen, the reigning American League champions have been left wondering where it all went wrong.

Perhaps the best, and most tangible, explanation for the Rays’ puzzling turnaround has been the organization’s sharp deviation from the formula that had been so successful the year before. Whether due to overconfidence or shortsightedness, the Rays’ front office made a few offseason moves that, in hindsight, may have been detrimental to the team’s chances going forward.

Though sharp defense and solid pitching had been a hallmark of the 2008 team, the Rays felt they had a surplus of young starters, and dealt flamethrower Edwin Jackson to the Detroit Tigers for outfield prospect Matt Joyce. Jackson, though wild at times, possesses pure “stuff,” and is having a career year with the Tigers, boasting a strikeout-to-walk ratio of 3.17. He’s also second in the AL with a 2.30 ERA. In a season when the Rays only have two effective starters, Jackson would have been an essential part of the drive to repeat. The Jackson-for-Joyce trade is unusual for Tampa Bay, not only in its willingness to part with a talented young pitcher, but in the return reaped. Joyce is a good player, and may one day be great, but for a team that is ready to win this year, the Rays should have demanded better.

The acquisition of Pat Burrell, on the other hand, looked like the kind of move a winning team would make. Fresh off their World Series loss to Burrell’s Phillies, the Rays were looking to add a power veteran bat to their lineup. Burrell seemed to fit the bill perfectly. The Rays found success in 2008 with a series of veteran role-players, so Burrell would no doubt continue the tradition. Or so the Rays hoped. But what they didn’t take into account was how an everyday player who didn’t consider Tampa Bay his final destination would fit into their formula of allowing young, energetic, organizational players to own their season. Burrell, a basepath clog with strikeout tendencies, doesn’t slot into an everyday lineup known for its aggressive baserunning. As it stands now, Burrell is on the DL after playing only 30 games. The home run tally so far from a power hitter the Rays spent $16 million on? One.

Baseball is not easily quantified. The contributions made by one player can’t be predicted as easily as basketball or football. As individualistic as the sport is, the minute details of the everyday game, and the drag of the 162, call for the ultimate team effort. The 2008 Tampa Bay Rays got it right. A lot of elements fell into place from opening day, and the young team starving for a winning season ran with their success. They were talented but, in many ways, they caught lightning in a bottle.

And in baseball, where nothing is certain, lightning doesn’t always strike twice.

Tagged as: Joe Maddon, Tampa Bay Rays