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Published: October 23, 2008
Baseball needs the Tampa Bay Whatevers.
Granted, that's not the majority view among fans favoring the Red Sox, Cubs, Yankees or Dodgers. Some fans believe baseball needs the Tampa Bay Whatevers about as much as baseball needs Jose Canseco.
Actually, Tampa Bay had Canseco. Twice. That was before he started fingering his fellow sluggers in the steroids derby.
The first time, in 1999, he hit 34 homers and knocked in 95 runs. The second time, he got into just 61 games and hit nine homers. His back was stiff, or he was a stiff, or something.
But Canseco proved a point. He was a big fish in a small pond. He had a marquee name, which was supposed to make Tampa Bay a stronger draw and a better team. The customers avoided the St. Petersburg dome by the millions, and the Tampa Bay Whatevers finished last, just as they did nine of their first 10 seasons.
On the doorstep of their 11th season, the team changed the uniforms, colors and nickname. The Devil Rays flushed the primary dark green of their youth and turned two shades of blue. They did away with the devil part, which had been derived from the devilish features of the manta ray. As a memorial, they put a small Devil Rays patch on an arm of the new Rays uniform).
Tampa Bay rose from the worst record in baseball to the best record in its league, a rebound only the 1991 Atlanta Braves had achieved. But this is the goofy part: Tampa Bay executives flushed the fish. The Rays are now the sun's rays. Honest. It's right there in the yellow sunset logo and in the team president's descriptive phrase "from the fish to sunshine."
At the time of the switch last November, principal owner Stuart Sternberg said the team picked Rays (a commonly used short version of Devil Rays) over Cannons, Stars, Dukes and Wave because it needed a fresh identity. "We were tied to the past, and the past wasn't necessarily something we wanted to be known for," he said.
The Rays are no longer tethered to the past. They are the present, the Philadelphia Phillies' foils in the World Series. The Rays could become the future, loaded with stars between the ages of 23 and 27, along with a farm system that Baseball America ranks first.
Back in April, a partial list of these phenoms was familiar only to baseball diehards: third baseman Evan Longoria, lefty David Price, center fielder B.J. Upton, left fielder Carl Crawford, right fielder Rocco Baldelli, catcher Dioner Navarro, righty Matt Garza, righty Andy Sonnanstine and lefty Scott Kazmir.
Longoria left spring training on the Durham Bulls' roster, but Willy Aybar's injury prompted a faster-than-planned summons. He became the Rays' cleanup hitter, delivering 27 homers and 85 RBI despite missing August with a broken wrist. Price pitched in four late-season Durham games on his meteoric rise to the majors, where he saved the final ALCS game.
The freshest mind belongs to Manager Joe Maddon, a very minor minor-league catcher who spent 31 seasons in the Angels organization and won a World Series ring as Mike Scioscia's bench coach.
Maddon wears Drew Carey glasses. He cut his hair in a variation of the Mohawk known as the Rayhawk, which he vows to keep beyond his winter wedding despite the bride's revulsion. As a baseball stylist, Maddon favors aggressive running -- the Rays led the league in steals -- and flexibility in defining players' roles, which minimizes the pressure of living up to exact expectations.
Baseball needs Maddon and his refreshing players. They show the way for other franchises, much like the expansion Florida Marlins did while winning the World Series in 1997 and 2003. That's two championships in 16 years. The Phillies, who opened for business in 1883, have won one.
The Rays built their solid foundation on the draft after a disastrous experiment with exhausted free agents, Canseco among them. Tampa Bay's payroll reached a peak of $64 million during Canseco's last trot in 2000.
Because early-in-career contracts are relatively modest, Tampa Bay now ranks 29th among the 30 teams with a $44 million payroll. Only the Marlins ($22 million) are more economical. The Yankees ($209 million) burn the most money. Philly ranks 12th at $93 million.
The Marlins dealt away several 1997 stalwarts for financial reasons, then restocked the roster with farm products and prospects acquired through deals. They experienced another rocky personnel churn after 2003.
Tampa Bay could avoid fire sales by converting current success into a deeper customer base, a progression that might build momentum for a 34,000-seat open-air stadium with a right-field fence beside the bay in St. Pete. The hang-ups: $450 million (mostly from governments, with a team share of $150 million or less), required voter approval, a terrible real-estate market and a weak economy.
But those are tough issues for winter. As the Fall Classic unfolds, the compelling young stars from Tampa Bay (and Philadelphia, for that matter) can introduce themselves to fans more accustomed to brand-name Red Sox and their ilk.
It's a beautiful thing, whether you call it rebirth, regeneration or whatever.
■ Lenox Rawlings can be reached at
lrawlings@wsjournal.com
.
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