I reced this because its something I’ve mentioned for weeks now. Pluto had a decent article about it last week.

Jim Leyland: “Want a bad team? Have a bad bullpen.”

I don’t see why this bullpen can’t turn it around. They’re mostly the same guys as last year (outside of Kobayashi who’s pitched well) and last year’s bullpen was fantastic. Of course, there was no way Perez and Betancourt were going to pitch as well as they did last year, but Betancourt has been absolutely terrible. He’s almost certain to pitch better. Perez has gotten better after a shaky start. Mastny and Julio are gone and they were two of our worst pitchers. Borowski has even pitched pretty well since his return from the DL. So I think it’s a pretty good possibility that the worst days of this bullpen are behind them, and they’ll pitch much better the rest of the season.

In 2007, the Indians won the Central and the bullpen had a respectable 3.73 ERA, ranked fourth out of 14 American League teams.

In 2006, the Indians were a disappointing 78-84 and their bullpen ranked 11th with a 4.61 ERA.

In 2005, the Indians won a surprising 93 games and had the league’s best bullpen at 2.80

In 2004, the Indians were a mediocre 80-82 with a 12th-ranked bullpen at 4.88.

Question: In those four years (2004-07), what was the only season the Indians failed to finish in the league’s top five in runs scored?

Answer: Last season, when they won 96 games.

What’s weird is that everyone expected a let down in the bullpen for 2008. But to be one of the three worst bullpens? Bullpens are binary, I guess, either good or bad, but certain teams (Angels? Twins?) maintain good pens consistently. This is probably because they have good pitchers (Rodriguez and Shields, or Nathan and Crain) and don’t have to overwork them. But, on the other hand, because of the good starting pitching, the Indians don’t overwork the bullpen much, either. I think the pen is due for a hot streak, but the damage may already be done.

I like KLaw, I know others (many?) here dislike him a great deal, but I admit that he seems to be completely oblivious on this one (my bold):

Brendon (Guildeland): Last night we saw the Yankees #4 starter in Darrell Rasner. 5 innings, 4 walks etc. We also saw the tandem of Kyle Farnsworth and Edwar Rameriz which did not work. What is a bigger need for the yankees. Starting Pitcher, or Set Up Man?

SportsNation Keith Law: (1:10 PM ET ) Starting pitching. Get your starters in order and your bullpen problems will shrink, if not go away entirely.

Apparently, he hasn’t spent much time watching the Tribe this year.

While those numbers are scary, I actually think they would have been worse had JoeBlow made more appearances this year.

The one caveat to all of this is that our bullpen wasn’t that great out of the chute last year. We had to suffer through some miserable appearances by Oldberto, Jason Davis , CaBBrera, Koplove and Mastny (who had a 5+ ERA for most of the early year). Even Borowski had some horrible appearances (even by his standards) in those first few months.

Perez came up and performed amazingly, Betancourt was a horse and even Fultz did pretty well (when he wasn’t asked to come into a game with the bases loaded and no one out). Then Jensen Lewis was a big addition in July.

So, that’s how we turned it around last year. We added a few guys and it allowed us to push the other guys into lesser roles (Mastny was used far less and Fultz wasn’t being put into high leverage situations). That’s what needs to happen this year if we want to compete. We either have to bite the bullet and call up guys like Stevens or Newsom (meh) ... or we have to try to trade for a solid middle reliever from another team.

It’s the bullpen….and the offense

According to Baseball Prospectus, only Rafael Perez has posted a positive WXRL this year. In other words, only Perez has increased the chances of our winning in the times that he’s pitched (and it’s hardly above zero).

Considering the track records of Betancourt, Lewis and Kobayashi (granted, in Japan), it’s not unreasonable to assume our bullpen will improve.

(Incidentally, in terms of WXRL, Betancourt is 397th in baseball, and Borowski is 409th – out of 423 relievers with at least 10 innings pitched.)

Kudos.

Unfortunately, I had to hide a particular comment for obvious reasons, and in doing so also hid all the comments nested below it, including a hilarious response. To remedy this, I’ve included the comment by fleerdon below:

Chris Antonetti jumped out of his Lexus and strode purposefully toward the Indians’ office complex. "Another beautiful day in Cleveland, working for the Indians," he said, locking the car by remote over his shoulder. "Sometimes, I love my job so much I just have to—I just have to WHISTLE!" The familiar notes of "It’s Tribe Time Now!" sprang brightly from his lips as he turned through the revolving door. And just as suddenly, they stopped.

Only few naked, sputtering fluorescent bulbs lit the room. Every desk had been overturned; shattered computer terminals littered the floor. The acrid smell of charred paper filled Antonetti’s nose. He reached for the smoking manilla folder on the floor near him. "2008 Player Performance Projections – C. A," read the cover. Antonetti’s eyes widened. Gradually, he became aware he was not alone in the ransacked office. A small voice was repeating itself.

"I dun-know my name. I dun-know my name. I dun-know my name. I dun-know my name." Antonetti rose, and peeked reluctantly over the receptionist’s counter. Derek Shelton, wearing only his uniform pants, was huddled in the corner, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth. "Derek?" queried Antonetti. Shelton froze. He turned his head slowly toward Antonetti, but seemed not to see him in his blank, unblinking gaze. "Dare…ick?" he said. "No…no…NO! BATTING AVERAGE!" He began to rock again. "I dun-know my name. I dun-know my name." Antonetti backed away carefully.

He picked his way across the rubble. Who could have done this? And why? A draft rushed past him, sending a chill down his spine. Searching for its source, he glanced up. Barely visible through a few cracked ceiling tiles, Eric Wedge was lashed to an HVAC pipe. He did not appear to be fully conscious. "Pull him!" Wedge said, eyes squeezed shut, twisting against his bonds. "No, wait, no—don’t pull him! Datz! Don’t pull him! Okay, okay, pull him!" Antonetti forced himself to look away … and directly into the face of Joe Borowski, who stood next to him, holding his fully detached right arm in his own left hand.

"Couldn’t be helped. The GSHABAZZ. It happened so fast."

"Joe!" Antonetti cried. "Your…your arm! Your New Jersey tough!"

Borowski shrugged with his remaining shoulder. "I sucked," he sighed, and wandered away.

"I’ve gotta be dreaming," said Antonetti. "I need to get to the familiar. Just get to my office, everything will be all right." He rushed to the elevator and pushed the up button. The elevator creaked down to the first floor. Ding, it said, and the door opened an inch. A few stacks of dollar bills fluttered to Antonetti’s feet. He frowned, crouched, picked them up. They had Paul Dolan’s face on them instead of George Washington’s. The dollar-bill Dolans’ eyes shifted toward Antonetti’s.

He dropped the money and shook his head. "Just get to your office," he said, "and you can wake up." Antonetti moved to the barely open elevator doors and pried them apart a little wider. Inside, Travis Hafner lay thoughtfully in a pile of cash that touched the elevator’s roof, a smirk on his face. "Aaagh!" cried Antonetti. He rushed to the stairwell, and bolted up the steps past Ryan Garko and Kelly Shoppach, who—were they racing up the stairs at one-quarter speed?

"I’m … go …. ing … to … wi … in," huffed Garko. "Yo … ou … ca … n’t … wi … in," replied Shoppach, feeling for the next step with his foot. "It’s …. GSH … AB … AZZ!" Antonetti hurried on.

Onto the second floor Antonetti burst. It was black up here, black as could be. The only light was sneaking out from around the door of his office, just cracked. Distantly, Antonetti thought he heard—carnival music. Drawing a deep breath, he pushed through the door. He hurriedly slammed it behind him. The music had stopped. The office was clean, quiet, bright, just as he left it. He exhaled slowly. That’s when he noticed the curly blue hair peeking over the top of his high-backed office chair, which faced the wall opposite him.

"I think it’s time to talk about an extension, Chris," said Mark Shapiro, spinning the chair slowly and placing his oversize yellow shoes on the desk. He began to laugh, the firetruck red makeup around his mouth broke into a grin over his white-caked face. "Or should I say…" Shapiro’s eyes narrowed under his wig, squinting over the orange foam ball on the end of his nose, "…GSHABAZZ? Ha-ha-haaa! Ha-ha-haaa! HAAA-HAAAA-HAAA!!!!"

Antonetti felt a scream erupt from someplace deep within him. "DAAAAAAA-"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"-AAAAAAAAAAMN!" he yelled, sitting bolt upright in his bed. He was lathered in sweat. Gradually, his breath slowed. It was his room. This was his room. It was over.

"Oh, honey, I just had the worst dream," he said to the figure next to him.

"You can tell The Franchise all about it, GSHABAZZ," said the figure. Brandon Phillips rolled over and flashed a Cheshire Cat grin.