If you prefer quantity over quality, you’re going to love the 2010 Atlanta Braves. With four fourth outfielders and three-and-a-half number two starters, four guys who can play third base, five who can play first, and none who can slug 30 homers, the Braves are the Everglades of baseball -- a mile wide and an inch deep.
Atlanta largely held down the fort during the off-season, after an 84-win season. They traded their third best starter, Javier Vazquez, for the Yankees’ Mediocre Cabrera. They jettisoned first baseman Adam Laroche in favor of the undead Troy Glaus and Eric Hinske. And they let embattled keystoner Kelly Johnson walk.
What that leaves them with is 73 equally plausible lineup combinations, not one of which sends chills up your spine. Nate McLouth, Matt Diaz, the aforemaligned Melky Cabrera and a castoff of thousands will battle for three outfield spots. McLouth and Diaz are nice players: if either showed up at your door to take your daughter to the prom, you’d be pleased, but it’s not like you’re praying that she’ll marry him, the way you did with that Pujols boy when you lived in St. Louis. Neither is a threat to slug .500 or make Georgians forget Andruw Jones afield (especially since Cabrera will staff center.) One more outfielder not worth mentioning is 38-century-old Garret Anderson, who at this point runs like Abe Vigoda and hasn’t hit like an outfielder since Friends was on the air.
At age 38, Chipper Jones can still pick ‘em at the hot corner and hit with his eyes closed. He has not, however, learned how to hit from the trainer’s table, where he is likely once again to spend a fair amount of time. Brian McCann Nakahoma’d 21 times last year to lead the team, and there isn’t much reason to think there’s any bigger wood on the club in 2010. McCann is another Hall of Famer in the making, but he’s not carrying that offense. Yunel Escobar was magnificent from the shortstop position last year; expect him to decline to merely quite good in ’10. In short, the Braves are an offense of guys who bat .300 but slug .420. Not exactly Howard, Utley, Victorino, Werth, Ibanez territory.
Fortunately, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. In Bobby Cox’s last year as chief of the teepee, he’ll trot out Lake Wobegone’s starting rotation, where every pitcher is above average. It starts with sensational sophomore Tommy Hanson, followed by Jair Jurrjens, Derek Lowe and Kenshin Kawakami, and perhaps by mid-season, Tim Hudson, whose hip ligament needs more time to acclimate to life in his elbow. The staff is as deep as the ocean.
Alas, the same cannot be said for the bullpen. Beyond the re-purposed body of 38-year-old Billy Wagner, 40-year-old Takashi Saito and the Aussie sidewinder Peter Moylan, t’aint much. If Cox can summon unexpected excellence out of the rest of the pen, Atlanta has a shot at the wild card. They’re going to have to do it by preventing runs, because the offense will be challenged to cobble together what it can.
No analysis of the Braves is complete without mentioning the studmuffin in the room, Jason Heyward. Physically he’s Darryl Strawberry and, thankfully, emotionally he is not. At 6’5” and 245 pounds of sinew, Heyward has already made a name for himself at Braves spring training by blasting so many BP pitches into the parking lot behind the fences that management had to install a net to prevent further damage to parked cars. The team shelled out over $10,000 before they finally took action. Still, the yeast has yet to rise on this 20-year-old with just 50 games above A-ball, and team management is smart enough not to take him out of the oven prematurely. The recipe in Atlanta remains unchanged regardless of Heyward’s immediate future: clog the bases, shut down the opposition and keep the Rolaids close.
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