If you have been reading me for a long time, I’m sure you have seen me write most definitely from a fans point of view, but you have also read some stuff written about the difference between a fan and someone “inside baseball.”  Its hard for those who write for a regular column or paper to remember what is like to be a fan, but every single one of them (ok not every one, some don’t like the game at all) still has those moments when they watch a game and find the joy or the awe that they had when they were new to it.

When you are around players, you find those you like personally, and so you root for them.  You find those you don’t like and you may root against them, or even ignore them completely, or you just watch them and write down what they did.  Rarely do you find those that you love like that guy you loved when you fell in love with baseball.

My love was Dave Concepcion. He was on a team with Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Johnny Bench, Tony Perez but he was my favorite.  I loved his speed, his glove, I loved his name. I couldn’t have made my case for him being my favorite, and honestly I still can’t.  Though those that admire defense get it.  He actually could hit a bit for a short-stop in that era, too.

The point of this is that I just read the latest post by Joe Posnanski, who incidentally has a new book coming out about my Big Red Machine.  In today’s post, he talks about the illogical love of his favorite player Duane Kuiper.  Who? you younger readers are asking.  Exactly the point.

But now, as a writer of baseball, Posnanski finds that he can defend certain players through very logical means.  He understands stats, and has the resources to find out anything he needs.  He thinks he knows how to build a team, and has sound methods for evaluating talent.  BUT- today, he finds himself admiring a player that defies logic, Mike Jacobs.

The part of the story that speaks to me is the story he tells of the day he started to look at Jacobs a little differently.

No. The reason I have come to like Jacobs and to root for him … well, I guess it started on what was supposed to be Opening Day in Chicago. The game was snowed-out, and so the Royals had a voluntary workout. Jacobs was there, and it was cold, it was windy, few players were outside. He went to home plate even though there was no pitcher. He dug into the batter’s box. He swung at an imaginary pitch. And he hit an imaginary home run. He ran around the bases with his arm in the air, like Tom Berenger in Major League. Now, as someone who loves baseball and Major League and the ridiculous, I can’t help but appreciate that.

These are little things that if you are around baseball a lot, and behind the scenes even a little bit, you find them and they change your perspective on a guy.   I found one of these in Bradenton this spring when Andrew McCutchen went from someone to watch for my fantasy team to someone to watch always.  Here is the post on that day.

But Posnanski goes on to talk about watching Jacobs, about eagerly awaiting his next AB, and like no one else he shares his vision of what Jacobs is actually thinking as he steps in the box.  Like Posnanski, I don’t know if the internal dialogue is there, but it does make the idea of watching Jacobs much more interesting.  i highly recommend you check out the story for yourself.

Posnanski depicts the dialogue that goes on with each writer inside baseball.  The part that knows a player is really ineffective and the part that wants him to succeed inspite of his weaknesses.

Maybe its the part of us that thinks perhaps we could do it just as well, or maybe even better.  If only our little league coach had let us play in games that weren’t complete blow-outs.