AJC > Sports > Braves > Blog > Archives > 2008 > November > 09
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Rejuvenated as Peavy watch continues
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Mesa, Ariz. _ My batteries have had a very necessary recharge, folks. Just got back from a great ride up and back to Jerome, Ariz., the self-proclaimed “Hard-Drinking Biker Town With an Artist Problem” (the slogan on T-shirts you can buy up there).
For those not familiar with it, Jerome is an tiny old ghost town at 5,200 feet altitude, literally perched on the side of a mountain. These days it’s full of bars, gift shops, restaurants and art galleries, with an actual population of only about 1,200.
But on a weekend afternoon, there’s probably two or three times that many people in town, what with all the tourists and hundreds of bikers who ride all manner of two-wheeled beasts up the famous two-lane road from Prescott, Ariz. The route has about 120 or so switchback and hairpin curves and extreme grades, unfit for big trucks or anyone afraid of heights (some thousand-foot drops if you look over the edge of the low guardrails).
Anyway, your Crusading Everyman froze his butt off for about an hour at mid-ride. I rented a Harley and rode up from Mesa. Thankfully they gave me rain gear because it began pouring while I was eating lunch in Jerome. Rode down the mountain in heavy rain and 48-degree temps with thunder and lightning (kinda cool experiencing that while literally up in the cloud — but not something I want to do again).
Fortunately it stopped raining before I got back on the main highway to Phoenix (17, the one from Phoenix to Flagstaff), because going at high speeds would’ve been impossible if it hadn’t stopped raining. And fortunately, I bought a heavier pair of gloves at the Harley shop before I took off, because after those got soaked and my hands were freezing, I had to switch back to my older pair, which were nice and dry.
Man, does it smell good in the desert mountains after it rains. Can’t even describe how fresh it smells up there. There’s no better way to experience this big ol’ country of ours than on a motorcycle, I can tell you that. Any of our denizens or other readers who have a bike, wouldn’t you agree? No doubt.
Anyway, I’m here for the Arizona Fall League to do two or three stories on Braves prospects that will run later this week, including a story on the man of the hour, Tommy Hanson, and one of Paul Bunyon-esque catcher Tyler Flowers, who’s tied for the AFL lead with seven homers.
But since they don’t play AFL games on Sunday, and since I had a pretty good feeling nothing would happen on the trade front today, I decided to use the afternoon wisely (but took my laptop in my backpack just in case, with it wrapped in a plastic hotel-room laundry bag anticipating rain).
In the back of my mind the whole ride up there, I was thinking, worrying, “This will be the Sunday when the biggest trade since Tim Hudson goes down, when I get a call two hours outside Phoenix announcing the trade” — so I took my laptop just in case, with my wireless broadband card. Fortunately, didn’t have to use it.
Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, waiting for a possible trade involving Jake Peavy. You’ve perhaps heard the Braves are trying to get the Padres ace? Yes, thought you might have.
Folks, barring some surprising late push from a team that simply overwhelms the Padres with a new offer, it’s going to be the Braves or Cubs who land the 2007 Cy Young Award winner. And since the few other teams Peavy would agree to be traded to seemingly don’t have the package of prospects that they are willing to part with and would satisfy what Padres GM Kevin Towers is looking for, I’m fairly certain it’ll be the Braves or Cubs.
And since the various possible offers from the Cubs that have been reported thus far seem to fall short of the Braves’ likely offer of Yunel Escobar, Gorkys Hernandez or Jordan Schafer, and one or two pitching prospects from a group that might include Charlie Morton, Jo-Jo Reyes, or one of the younger guys (not named Hanson), I’m still of the belief that the Braves are favored over the Cubs to get Peavy.
But I also know that some others think the Cubs moved ahead, for whatever reason. So we’ll see. I do think it’ll happen well before the December 7-11 Winter Meetings in Vegas, and probably before Thanksgiving. But whether it’ll be in the next week, I’m not as certain. But there’s a decent chance.
The Braves would like it to happen yesterday, or last week. In other words, as soon as possible. Because while they are moving forward and discussing other trades and talking to free agents’ representatives, they really need to know whether they’re likely to land Peavy before they start allocating major trade pieces toward other deals, including a power-hitting outfielder.
For instance, if the Braves aren’t going to trade Escobar (or Kelly Johnson, though the Padres seem unlikely to accept KJ as a centerpiece) in a Peavy deal, then they could make a stronger bid for Cardinals OF Ryan Ludwick, whose 37 homers last season were 10 more than all Braves outfielders combined. (Think about that, folks. It’s amazing, really is.)
And if they’re not going to land Peavy, the Braves need to be ready to make substantial offers to a couple of other premier starters, though the bidding is going to be high for any legit No. 1-type starter available, even the injury-plagued ones.
OK, that’s all for now. Try to be patient a little longer, denizens. I think we’re about to finally start seeing some action, or at least some new rumors this week. And if we don’t, well, we can keep questioning the integrity of everyone involved in the current rumors, right? Good. It’s a plan. Ready, break.
Diversions: Bubdylan (one of our denizens) wanted a list of 10 James McMurtry tunes he should download, sans big James’ more political stuff. While some of his protest tunes are my favorites, we can certainly get you that list, Bubdylan. Here’s one gem that fits the bill:
”HURRICANE PARTY” by James McMurtry
The hurricane party’s windin’ down and we’re all waitin’ for the end
And I don’t won’t another drink, I only want that last one again
He gave me such a fine glow, smokin’ slow, now I should probably be homeward bound
There’s just no one to talk to when the lines go down
I guess that in the morning I’ll go lookin’ for my gray-striped cat
My old house can take the weather so I’m not too concerned about that
It was built to take the wind back in nineteen-and-ten when this was one damned fine town
But now there’s no one to talk to when the lines go down
Candles flickered on the back bar and the building was shakin’ with the wind
I bought a whiskey for the gypsy and she turned my leather back into skin
Just a fleeting sense of that rare suspense I once thought made the world go round
But now there’s no one to talk to when the lines go down
Open up your back screen door
Let me see your face once more
My hands are cold and my feet so sore
And I can’t go on this way
And the thoughts come too fast and too many to keep count, best just to let ‘em on through
Now I’m breaking those glass insulators with my old 22
Off the telephone polls as a half dollar rolls across the knuckles of a rodeo clown
There’s just no one to talk to when the lines go down
My one great love, my God, I can feel her still
She ran off to California and now she’s living in those Hollywood Hills
With some bullfrog prince, I’ve not seen her since
Though she calls when he’s out of town
And there’s no one to talk to when the lines go down
Open up your back screen door
Let me in your space once more
I was looking for an easy score
But it just don’t work that way
Some insurance-man biker is yellin’ out for one more beer
But a part-time pirate just can’t get much respect around here
We got our problems too, man we’ll get to you
In just a minute, sit your drunk ass down
Yeah, there’s no one to talk to when the lines go down
Now there’s water up past the wheel wells of my Ford and I don’t guess that it’ll run
But I left a pack of Winston’s on the dash, could you fetch ‘em for me son?
The morning’s first cigarette, that’s as good as it gets all day I should know by now
But there’s no one to talk to when the lines go down
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