C'est la Vie

Until now, I hadn't given much thought to the Montreal Expos.

Alas, Commissioner Bud and his merry cohorts have changed that. In recent days, Montreal Expos' owner Jeffrey Loria (who, in the course of his one year of owning the team, managed to provide an invisibility to the franchise that was unprecedented: he refused to secure local TV and English radio contracts for his team) was allowed to exchange his Montreal franchise for the Florida Marlins' franchise. Florida, of course, had become available when its previous owner, John Henry, was allowed to buy the Boston Red Sox. The Expos? They will head into the 2002 season in the rather unenviable position of being owned and operated by, well, the very opponents they will play. I believe the official jargon is "limited partnership", but the fact of the matter is that all 29 teams in the MLB universe who do not play in Montreal voted to buy the franchise from Loria for $120 million and then allowed Commissioner Bud to staff the Expos' management team.

As these bizarre and, frankly, somewhat incestuous events of the past few weeks have unfolded, the heretofore translucence that has been the Montreal Expos' franchise of the past few years has become increasingly opaque. And this increased visibility is not a pretty sight.

The lame duck status that has been stamped on the franchise will hang over the team all year long. And adding to this depressing mix, Commissioner Bud appointed a GM with no prior GM experience (Omar Minaya) and longtime hardass Frank Robinson to take over as skipper. Now in fairness to Robby, he has prior managerial experience and is accustomed to succeeding. Indeed, he was one of the most underrated players in the history of the game. His impressive playing credentials should get him mentioned in the same breath as Aaron, Mays, Mantle and the other first-tier superstars. Unfortunately, he is rarely mentioned in the same breath as Messrs. Aaron, Mays, and Mantle. However, as a manager, he has not achieved that same level of success and has developed a reputation for being extremely hard on his players. In fact, Robinson stepped down from his post with MLB where he was in charge of meting out fines and suspensions to accept the job with the Expos. So, how will a manager who is as old school as old school gets mix with a team full of young players who know that their franchise is just playing out the string this season before a nearly empty house? I think it'll be a long season at le Stade Olympique.

To sum up, Jeff Loria buys the Florida Marlins, former Marlins owner John Henry buys the Boston Red Sox, and the Expos become 25 guys set adrift on a raft in the middle of nowhere, sans oars and maps. All the while, the rest of the owners in baseball cover their eyes, ears, and mouths. If ever there were a clearer case of the inmates running the asylum, I'm not sure where that more definitive example resides.

The irony is that a mere eight years ago the Montreal Expos were the best team in baseball. In 1994, they finished with a 74-40 record, six games ahead of perennial NL power Atlanta. The offense, powered by the OF trio of Larry Walker, Moises Alou, and Marquis Grissom, finished third in the NL in runs scored. The pitching staff boasted 16-game winner Ken Hill, 22-year old Pedro Martinez (in his first season as a starter), lefty Jeff Fassero (11 wins, 2.99 ERA), and co-closers John Wetteland and Mel Rojas, who combined for 41 saves. Even, the supporting cast was solid. OF Cliff Floyd, who would later blossom into a star with (of all teams, Jeff Loria's new team) the Florida Marlins, was a fourth outfielder and Jeff Shaw, who later turned into a top-notch closer with Cincinnati, pitched as a setup man. And at the head of the ship was Felipe Alou, one of the most popular and respected managers in baseball.

The problem, of course, was that Montreal put together this impressive team in 1994. And 1994, as we all know now, was the year the players went out on strike in mid-August and did not return to the field until 1995. In September of 1994, Commissioner Bud put the gavel down on the season and officially cancelled all remaining games on the schedule, including the World Series.

So, the year the star-crossed Montreal Expos were most fit to be champions there was no championship to play for.

After that, the franchise seemed to throw up its hands in resignation. They let talented players leave, trading them for younger and, more importantly, cheaper substitutes. Pedro Martinez turned into Carl Pavano. John Wetteland turned into Fernando Seguignol. Ken Hill turned into Kirk Bullinger (who pitched exactly 7 innings for the club). Marquis Grissom turned into Roberto Kelly and Tony Tarasco (who each played only one season with Montreal). And, Moises Alou and Larry Walker simply walked away as free agents.

Prospects for success inevitably dimmed. The Expos were like a punctured tire, and the further down the road they went, the more air they lost. Finally, when they got to their present predicament with the former "Czar of Discipline" running the show and MLB praying that Les Expos just go quietly into the night after the 2002 season, they have reached their inevitable low.

So, what does the 2002 season hold in store for the tenants of le Stade Olympique?

Well, they have 3/5 of a decent starting rotation. Javier Vasquez is the real deal and a legitimate #1 starter. Tony Armas Jr. and Carl Pavano are capable pitchers, though Pavano has a lengthy history of injury and is as likely to spend as much time on the DL as off of it. OF Vladimir Guerrero is a star and is quickly developing into one the best hitters in the NL. 2B Jose Vidro is only one season removed from a huge offensive year (he hit .330 with 24 HR and 97 RBI in 2000). SS Orlando Cabrera and C Michael Barrett are better than average players at their respective positions.

That, unfortunately, is the extent of the good news.

On the minus side of the ledger, the team is perilously thin. Bench play is practically non-existent. The bullpen is serviceable, but when the team unloaded closer Uegeth Urbina last season, they did not find a true replacement for him. The attendance is abysmal. They play in a division with two powerhouse franchises: one, a perennial favorite (Atlanta); the other, a free spending, aggressive organization that just had a huge off-season (NY Mets). Their starting pitching after their top three starters is a mess (hint: Hideki Irabu is still on the payroll).

Despite all of that, I hope the Expos have a great season. No, not a great season a season for the AGES. Their excellence in 2002 should ring loud and true for years. Culminating, fittingly, with Commissioner Bud trying to stumble his way through a World Series trophy presentation to the team he and his cohorts had left for dead, an image to be captured, savored and showcased in perpetuity.

Of course, the likelihood of the Expos rising from the ashes to humiliate the higher-ups in MLB is about as remote as their continued existence past the 2002 season.

But, hey, it's been done before, albeit most recently in the movies. And if you think about it, the plot for the movie "Major League" isn't too terribly different than the current predicament that the Expos' players find themselves in: an owner (or in the Expos' case, 29 owners), who doesn't want to see the team succeed for financial reasons, tries to sabotage the team's chances, but the underdog roster rises to the occasion to succeed, anyway.

To the best of my recollection, the "Major League" recipe for success utilized the following elements: a plucky, battle-scarred veteran catcher who comes out of retirement for a final season, a lightning quick leadoff man who "runs like Mays but hits like shit", a quirky, erratic pitcher with a blazing fastball but precious little control, and a Cuban born cleanup hitter who crushes fastballs but ties himself in knots swinging at curves.

So, if you extend that recipe to the Expos you get: Gary Carter back behind the plate. Brian L. Hunter, who does indeed "run like Mays but hits like shit", hitting leadoff. The real "Wild Thing", Mitch Williams, slinging his blazing fastball all over the place. And Jose Canseco, stopping at yet another ballpark to try to salvage his career, hitting cleanup.

On second thought, I have a feeling that this is one time that life is not meant to imitate art.

So, as baseball's most unwatched and unloved team of the past few years completes its final act, I hope that they can find enough motivation, catch a few good breaks, and ride enough good will to finish the year with some degree of success. With people finally paying some attention to them, it would be nice to see them respond with a winning season.

And if they could somehow, miraculously, find a way to play well enough to embarrass Commissioner Bud and Jeff Loria, well, that would be a final act worthy of a long, loud ovation.

So, here's to you, Les Expos. Magnifique finale une saison.