After a recent discussion with a friend, I made a personal claim that I have never before considered, but in retrospect, seems totally accurate. We were talking about music, specifically what was important to us and why. What artist or album meant so much to us that it stayed with us for life. After throwing out all of the common responses, I came to my choice. I had never thought about it too much, but without much second-guessing, it was obvious. The band who has had the biggest affect on my musical interests was The Doors. Typically, I hesitate to speak in superlatives, but in this case, I have no qualms claiming The Doors as the most influential musicians on my life.
When I was a freshman in high school, of course I still had a very youthful sense of music. I still do, but at least then, I was all over the top-40 radio hits, pretty much exclusively. Then, in the summer before my sophomore year, I became good friends with a senior on the cross country team. We had always been friends, but during that year, he and I started driving around, just talking about and listening to music. At one point, he asked me something along the lines of, “If I could be in any band, who would it be?” I forget what inane response I had, but he firmly answered, The Doors. I expressed some interest, and he seemed surprised that I could not have already experienced this band. Promptly the next day at school, he showed up with three CDs: Waiting for the Sun, L.A. Woman, and The Soft Parade.
I took these three home and immediately put them on. My first listen was Waiting for the Sun. I remember being shocked that The Doors did “Hello, I Love You.” I knew that song! But I had always thought it was some little one-hit band. How could I have been so wrong? Overall, I liked the album, so I went on to the next one. L.A. Woman was pretty cool, too. So, I finished my friend’s three CDs with a listen to The Soft Parade. I thought it was neat until I got to the last song on the album, the titular “Soft Parade.” At that point, I was blown away. I probably listened to that song several times in a row--and it’s over eight minutes long. Immediately, I made copies of all three of the CDs. I was hooked.
For the first few days of my following with The Doors, I only had access to these three albums. So, I became very familiar with them. Some songs astounded me and became my favorites. I was stunned by the immense sadness of “Hyacinth House.” The opening arpeggios on “Spanish Caravan” were purposely reminiscent of what I thought a market would sound like in Spain. “Not to Touch the Earth” was misleading and haunting, almost tribal. And still “The Soft Parade” was becoming my favorite song off my favorite album.
Over the following weeks, I was determined to get the three missing albums. It didn’t take me long to find the self-titled debut album, and I was just as impressed. The first half of that album is one great song after another. The second half appropriately ends with “The End,” an incredible epic forever immortalized by Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now. Next, I found Morrison Hotel, which struck me as their most jazz-oriented record. The last album I tracked down was Strange Days, their follow up to their debut. This album continued the trend of having long, terrific closing songs seen on four of their albums.
By this point, my listening had become an obsession. It came at a perfect time, too: in 2007, all six studio albums got the remastered treatment. Eagerly, I collected them. For weeks, I was listening to nothing but Doors’ music, seemingly without tiring of it. Since my car only had a cassette player (this was 2007, after all), I used a Doors’ greatest hits tape that I picked up for a quarter. More live videos and rarities could easily be found online. There are many excellent books about the band, and I read them all (including Jim’s poetry). I borrowed the Oliver Stone film from the same friend and watched it several times. Using a classical guitar, I committed to learning as many songs as possible. Jim Morrison even lead me to a few of my now-favorite authors, like Jack Kerouac and Aldous Huxley. Over this period of months, my obsession with The Doors did not change my personality; but they definitely broadened it.
Musically, I think The Doors are nearly without comparison. Like fellow Californian contemporaries, The Beach Boys, there is a level of complexity in the music that does not sound like it could be made by only four people. Even listening today, I hear new parts of songs that I have never heard before. It is almost impossible to pick out each and every strand of music in the songs. They sound advanced, well ahead of their time. Drummer, John Densmore, highlights his jazz influences. The talented Robby Krieger showed his rock prowess on the guitar. Ray Manzarek blended the two in his parts on the organ. And there was no bassist! How many other popular rock bands can boast success without a bassist? Finally, there was Jim Morrison. His gruff, yet soothing voice is one of the best in American music.
I could not say when the obsession began to fade. It could not have lasted longer than six months. But I can say I have never before had a more continuous and complete phase with a band. I entered with a childish appreciation for music in general and emerged on the other side loving different music that I still treasure today. Although I have not gone back to them as often as I have with other bands, I can still go back to any one of their six main studio albums (before Morrison’s death) and it will cause an impression on me. The Doors are responsible for changing my musical views, and for that, I will always be grateful.
Friday, May 9, 2014
Thursday, April 3, 2014
The Universe for a Generation
Think about the console video game world in 1997. Although fans of Sony’s Playstation enjoyed core releases Final Fantasy VII and Gran Turismo, which ultimately became the system’s bestselling games, Sony was not a major video game entity until the Playstation 2 in 2000. Likewise, Microsoft’s Xbox would not be available for another four years. Sega saw the coming decline of its console career with the Saturn, released one final successful system, the Dreamcast, the following year, and essentially became the software developer we know of today. That left the gaming behemoth, Nintendo.
By far, Nintendo passed the 1990s as the most successful corporation in gaming. Since the mid-1980s, Nintendo had established itself as the most popular family gaming company. In 1997, the Nintendo had three successful platforms selling effectively--the newer, slimmer Super Nintendo, the updated Game Boy Pocket, and the immensely popular Nintendo 64--with arrival of the Game Boy Color in the queue. It is safe to say no other gaming company could compete with Nintendo, especially in handheld systems.
What could Nintendo possibly do to better themselves? The two best-selling franchises for the corporation were, and still are, the Mario series and the Pokemon series. In 2006, games involving Mario had sold over 185 million copies; Pokemon, 106 million copies. Since then, considering the releases of new consoles and new handhelds, these numbers have skyrocketed even higher.
The sheer amount of these games sold deserves a closer look, though. It may first appear that Mario games simply outsold Pokemon games by some 80 million copies. Keep in mind, however, that Pokemon games hit the market in 1996, fifteen years after Mario premiered in Donkey Kong in 1981, ten years after the release of Super Mario Bros. in 1985. At that rate, the Pokemon franchise sold quicker, moving almost one and a half times as many units per year than Mario. Furthermore, the Pokemon series was limited by the fact that it was sold almost solely on handheld games. Mario had the advantage of having hit games on every console--including handhelds.
It would seem, then, there was one last project that would seal Nintendo as the greatest video game company in history: create a Pokemon game for a console.
* * *
Before we begin, let me just say that I have no technical understanding of a Nintendo 64 video game. None. It might have been totally impossible to create a game of such scale on a cartridge. Maybe the random encounters would have been too much for the system to handle. It is possible the region of Kanto would have been severely compromised by the technical limitations of the machine. And I can accept that. But I can dream, right?1
Of course, some Pokemon games were released on the N64, although they were “Pokemon” by name only. They were more just scaled down certain aspects of the original games. (Anyone up for some Pokemon Puzzle League?) And Snap was fun for plenty of reasons other than its adherence to the Pokemon universe. Having the sprawling region was probably possible on later consoles, but I’m really only concerned here with the late 1990s.
Another factor that I’m choosing not to take into consideration is the financial possibilities of the project. Maybe it was just not feasible to put a development team on such a massive undertaking. Or perhaps no one could have predicted the popularity of Pokemon at that time that it should have merited a full-scale world, causing publishers to back down. I’m no economics student, but when I look at the numbers retrospectively, I think Pokemon 64 (as I’ve affectionately taken to calling it) would have made a lot of money. That’s my expert opinion.
At any rate, here’s what I would have liked. Imagine Ash Ketchum rolling out of bed late, missing an appointment with one Professor Oak, only to be embarrassed by your mother while you get stuck with an annoyingly cute electric mouse. Sound familiar? As you know, this was the start of the anime series. An effective origin, but one that was lost in the original games for the Game Boy. The beginning to the Red/Blue amounts to little more than being gifted a free Pokemon for wandering into grass. Now imagine yourself playing as this character in a fully colored, three dimensional world.
In my mind, I have an image sort of like the beginning to Ocarina of Time. Even the story is somewhat similar for the first few minutes: lazy boy has to run around Kokiri Forest/Pallet Town equipping the tools necessary to set out on a long and arduous journey. After the opening trials, you, the player, would be off. Remember “That Moment” when you first walk out onto the sprawling Hyrule Field as the music soars? It could have been the same in Kanto.
I realize at this point it just sound like a fanboy’s wishful thinking for the impossible. But it’s true! This hypothetical game has such unbelievable potential, and so far, nothing seems out of the realm of possibility. In this analogy, Pokemon Red/Blue would be the series’ equivalent to Link’s Awakening.2 Assume an alternate universe in which a three-dimensional Zelda game was never made but Pokemon 64 existed. You could just as easily make the argument the opposite direction. And who wants to live in a world without a 3D Zelda game?
Onto the actual gameplay. Specifically: random encounters and turn based battles. Random encounters had been around for several years (Dragon Warrior, Final Fantasy, etc.), but were still relatively new to 3D games. One reason the random encounters worked so well in Red/Blue was the fact that there were certain areas where you could expect to find encounters and certain areas where they were not possible. This could easily work in a 3D game. I can almost transpose it in my mind. If I close my eyes, I can picture my TV screen displaying Ash running through grass and the screen freezing and flashing, signalling a random encounter.
Another quality I liked about the Pokemon series was the fact that areas were limited to smaller sizes. It was kind of necessary to account for the handheld devices. The game had the feel of a large world, but not an open world. I would like to think that if ported to a console, the size of the area would increase slightly, though not too much. Sure, it would be exhausting to traverse such a large area without some sort of boundaries, so there could even be a system for fast travel, for when your Pidgeotto learns Fly. Why not?
Finally, there was the turn-based battle system. The core mechanic to every Pokemon game (or any JRPG, for that matter) was the alternating style of attack and defense. Fortunately, this part was already done! Pokemon Stadium, which actually showed up on the Nintendo 64 twice, featured such battle arenas as its main game.3 Long battles--however intense--bordered on tedious in Red/Blue, yet it was enough to make two entire games on the Nintendo 64. Logically, that should prove how profitable the fictional Pokemon 64 could have been.
I don’t know. Maybe the game would have been terrible. Maybe it would have ruined the franchise. I mean, the early 3D Castlevania games weren’t great. But when I think of the list of successes (Super Mario World to Super Mario 64, Donkey Kong Country to Donkey Kong 64, Super Metroid to Metroid Prime, etc.), I can’t help but wonder. If you’re interested enough, you can find mods that effectively run the game I’ve imagined on your computer. They seem to be quite popular, too. But they just can’t recapture the nostalgia.
1 Also noticeably absent is a Metroid game for the Nintendo 64. What happened between Super Metroid and Metroid Prime? Oh well. That’s a different question for a different day.↩
2 To be clear: many people, myself included, think Link’s Awakening was an excellent game.↩
3 And some really bitchin’ mini-games!↩
Saturday, March 8, 2014
A New Road for Real Estate
I love Real Estate’s new release, Atlas. And it really should not be a surprise. Their last full length, Days, might have been my favorite of 2011. The self-titled debut was not bad either. So it was to be expected for their third album to be up to par. It definitely did not disappoint.
Real Estate is truly a band that has gotten better over time. Their first album, Real Estate, has all of the makings of a low-fi acoustic gem. There may be glimpses of imperfection, although it only adds to the overall vibe. The drums sound simplistic and a bit crashing. A few vocals are quiet and hard to hear. Some songs seem to wander too much. But the songs work to create a cohesive sound throughout the whole album. There are moments of brilliance as well. Certain tracks like “Pool Swimmers,” contain elements that sound inspired by psychedelic noise pop. Honestly, the album feels like the trio is built around impromptu jams. Solos--fairly uncommon in primarily acoustic bands--run joyfully throughout the songs. There are sections which sound as if they are made up on the spot. Overall, the album is an intricate jam session that can be listened to again and again.
Days drastically improves on its predecessor. Reminiscent of early Beach House albums, it is an addictive album. Tremendously catchy, it sounds a bit like the first album only with better production value. Every part sounds tighter and cleaner. It is the kind of music that is both subtle enough to fall asleep to and upbeat enough to put on at a party. Noise pop elements found in the first album are even more pronounced. After two years and the success of the first album, Real Estate sounded even better. Yet still, they did not lose the feel of each individual band member adding to the overall quality of the album. When it came out, I devoted a good amount of time to listening through it.
Atlas picks up right where Days left off. Like the first two full-lengths, Atlas is ten tracks long, clocking in just under 40 minutes. Everything on this album sounds fuller and more complex in ways the previous two did not. Reverb on the opening track “Had to Hear” swells in ways unlike anything from their earlier work, signifying a supposed new direction. But then following tracks, “Past Lives,” the first single “Talking Backwards” (which hearkens back to “Municipality” from Days), and the instrumental “April’s Song” begin to sound much more like the Real Estate of old.
The upbeat music still has the same relaxed feel, even if it accompanies some of the band’s most ominous lyrics which lament the passing of time. It causes questioning of the album’s title: maybe it is representative of a road map in life? The guitars lope so comfortably throughout, however, that it is easy to miss the message some lyrics. The sounds work so well together that even the bleakest lyrics have a tinge of optimism. In fact, once started, the album flows so well that it is difficult to interrupt the album during one sitting. Like their first album, clean solos are found at unexpected, yet fitting times. “Talking Backwards” does exactly what a single should do: it is too enjoyable to not repeat at least once. The album closes with three songs that feel too short, because they are songs that you simply do not want to come to an end.
After spending just a few days with this album, it is difficult to say whether I enjoy Atlas more than Days or if it is just the newness of the album that makes it attractive. Keep in mind that I think Days still has lasting quality, and when it first came out, it was on constantly in my room. Repeatability is a good way to judge music. There is no question that Atlas is a technologically sounder album; now we will have to see how pervasive its sounds and themes remain in the years to come. But as for now, I am finding myself enjoying it immensely and continually putting it on.
As of yet, each Real Estate album has gotten distinctly better and better. The band may have grown more complex in five years, but they have not lost any of the relaxed easy listening that I fell in love with then. Judging by the consistency of their releases, I’m excited to see what the group from New Jersey puts out next.
Real Estate is truly a band that has gotten better over time. Their first album, Real Estate, has all of the makings of a low-fi acoustic gem. There may be glimpses of imperfection, although it only adds to the overall vibe. The drums sound simplistic and a bit crashing. A few vocals are quiet and hard to hear. Some songs seem to wander too much. But the songs work to create a cohesive sound throughout the whole album. There are moments of brilliance as well. Certain tracks like “Pool Swimmers,” contain elements that sound inspired by psychedelic noise pop. Honestly, the album feels like the trio is built around impromptu jams. Solos--fairly uncommon in primarily acoustic bands--run joyfully throughout the songs. There are sections which sound as if they are made up on the spot. Overall, the album is an intricate jam session that can be listened to again and again.
Days drastically improves on its predecessor. Reminiscent of early Beach House albums, it is an addictive album. Tremendously catchy, it sounds a bit like the first album only with better production value. Every part sounds tighter and cleaner. It is the kind of music that is both subtle enough to fall asleep to and upbeat enough to put on at a party. Noise pop elements found in the first album are even more pronounced. After two years and the success of the first album, Real Estate sounded even better. Yet still, they did not lose the feel of each individual band member adding to the overall quality of the album. When it came out, I devoted a good amount of time to listening through it.
Atlas picks up right where Days left off. Like the first two full-lengths, Atlas is ten tracks long, clocking in just under 40 minutes. Everything on this album sounds fuller and more complex in ways the previous two did not. Reverb on the opening track “Had to Hear” swells in ways unlike anything from their earlier work, signifying a supposed new direction. But then following tracks, “Past Lives,” the first single “Talking Backwards” (which hearkens back to “Municipality” from Days), and the instrumental “April’s Song” begin to sound much more like the Real Estate of old.
The upbeat music still has the same relaxed feel, even if it accompanies some of the band’s most ominous lyrics which lament the passing of time. It causes questioning of the album’s title: maybe it is representative of a road map in life? The guitars lope so comfortably throughout, however, that it is easy to miss the message some lyrics. The sounds work so well together that even the bleakest lyrics have a tinge of optimism. In fact, once started, the album flows so well that it is difficult to interrupt the album during one sitting. Like their first album, clean solos are found at unexpected, yet fitting times. “Talking Backwards” does exactly what a single should do: it is too enjoyable to not repeat at least once. The album closes with three songs that feel too short, because they are songs that you simply do not want to come to an end.
After spending just a few days with this album, it is difficult to say whether I enjoy Atlas more than Days or if it is just the newness of the album that makes it attractive. Keep in mind that I think Days still has lasting quality, and when it first came out, it was on constantly in my room. Repeatability is a good way to judge music. There is no question that Atlas is a technologically sounder album; now we will have to see how pervasive its sounds and themes remain in the years to come. But as for now, I am finding myself enjoying it immensely and continually putting it on.
As of yet, each Real Estate album has gotten distinctly better and better. The band may have grown more complex in five years, but they have not lost any of the relaxed easy listening that I fell in love with then. Judging by the consistency of their releases, I’m excited to see what the group from New Jersey puts out next.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Simpler May Be Better
You may not have any reason to notice small, browser-based video
games. Even if you are a steady follower of video games, a wealth of
browser games will naturally go unnoticed. But after a little digging,
some treasures can be found. With almost no entry experience necessary
and no monetary cost, the return value on such games like Candy Box or A Dark Room is immeasurable.
Initially, I was looking for a simple, fun game to play where I could open a browser and leave it running. Nothing much more than a time-killer. Once in a while, I would play online strategy games that ran in real time. With titles like Tribal Wars or Supremacy 1914 you could log in daily, set your units, accomplish tasks or quests, and logout satisfied. These types of games interested me: strategy games that required minimal involvement. They are not unlike what you might find on a mobile device.
I found A Dark Room with a Google search.1 A Dark Room commences in, just that, a dark room. As you progress through the game you get more places, more people, and overall more tasks to complete. It sounds simple, but you must make some choices as to how to invest your resources. Patience is a virtue when it comes to achieving the best equipment. The game progresses slowly at first, but as your village expands, it becomes much more thorough and involved. The transition is quite amazing. As the game fills in, it is easy to forget how simply the game opened. Unless you’re a cynic.
I turned to Candy Box after I knew I needed something more like A Dark Room. In the same manner, I was quickly hooked on a simple premise. When seeing the sole option, “Eat all the candies,” with a number generator, “You have X candies!” that ticks up by one every second, you start to think: “Is this a joke? I mean, even the title sounds like a joke!” Here again, patience is a virtue. There is about three minutes of thinking you have been had before the game takes off. After that, there is little to slow it down. The game progresses so rapidly and in such different directions. Candy Box spawned a sequel as well. It was good, but not too different from the first. But I can’t complain. Why fix what isn’t broken?
That’s it. It sounds simple, I know, but that’s kind of all I can say without spoiling the fun that lies within playing them. Honestly, the two games are not entirely similar. Playing one does not scratch the same itch as playing the other. Both accomplish different and exciting qualities. But there are some similarities. Their minimalist art styles are reminiscent of one another. While they are games that operate on separate browser tabs while doing something else, both draw the player in with more and more involved gameplay. For both games, it is easy to click over to set something in motion, but many times become engrossed in another detail of the game.
Without going into much detail, games like A Dark Room, Candy Box, or its sequel can very much draw you in. I hesitate to describe too much, because there is just so much to discover, and the discovery, of course, is the fun. An “iceberg” analogy seems especially fitting here in describing the depth of these games. Is there an endgame? Some sense of finality? Don’t ask me. I have not found one yet, but that is not for lack of trying. Everytime I start one of these games I find new things to do or quicker ways to the things I do know. It is a steady pursuit to find new surprises.
I think the reason these games are so incredible is that expectations are almost nonexistent. It is hard to come up with broad comparisons to other games. Instead, you find some of the better elements of different genres of games. They are more involved than text adventures or point-and-clicks, or at least they seem to be. There are some strategic choices you have to make. The simple concept masks a much more fulfilling experience. There are enough facets to keep you constantly wanting to advance further into the game. Your style of gameplay can be passive or active, meaning the game can last as long or as short as you want. I’m pretty sure “graphics” (or lack thereof) do not matter in this discussion.2 It is just not easy to form a good complaint against these types of games. Again, unless you’re a cynic.
When I showed A Dark Room to a friend, at first he said he could see the potential for fun, but I could tell he was not fully committed. An hour later, I hear: “Am I on a quest? Is this an RPG?” Whether you are into video games or not, simple, browser-based games can be worth hours of enjoyment. I’ll be seeing you on the dusty path.
1 The Internet is a big place. By far, these are not the only games worth playing in your browser. Interesting new choices turn up daily that can be very rewarding. In fact, most genres are well represented with free browser-based clones. I am speaking only about two games that are somewhat similar, yet hard to classify.↩
2 And besides, Dwarf Fortress looks just as good and is wildly popular in some circles.↩
Initially, I was looking for a simple, fun game to play where I could open a browser and leave it running. Nothing much more than a time-killer. Once in a while, I would play online strategy games that ran in real time. With titles like Tribal Wars or Supremacy 1914 you could log in daily, set your units, accomplish tasks or quests, and logout satisfied. These types of games interested me: strategy games that required minimal involvement. They are not unlike what you might find on a mobile device.
I found A Dark Room with a Google search.1 A Dark Room commences in, just that, a dark room. As you progress through the game you get more places, more people, and overall more tasks to complete. It sounds simple, but you must make some choices as to how to invest your resources. Patience is a virtue when it comes to achieving the best equipment. The game progresses slowly at first, but as your village expands, it becomes much more thorough and involved. The transition is quite amazing. As the game fills in, it is easy to forget how simply the game opened. Unless you’re a cynic.
I turned to Candy Box after I knew I needed something more like A Dark Room. In the same manner, I was quickly hooked on a simple premise. When seeing the sole option, “Eat all the candies,” with a number generator, “You have X candies!” that ticks up by one every second, you start to think: “Is this a joke? I mean, even the title sounds like a joke!” Here again, patience is a virtue. There is about three minutes of thinking you have been had before the game takes off. After that, there is little to slow it down. The game progresses so rapidly and in such different directions. Candy Box spawned a sequel as well. It was good, but not too different from the first. But I can’t complain. Why fix what isn’t broken?
That’s it. It sounds simple, I know, but that’s kind of all I can say without spoiling the fun that lies within playing them. Honestly, the two games are not entirely similar. Playing one does not scratch the same itch as playing the other. Both accomplish different and exciting qualities. But there are some similarities. Their minimalist art styles are reminiscent of one another. While they are games that operate on separate browser tabs while doing something else, both draw the player in with more and more involved gameplay. For both games, it is easy to click over to set something in motion, but many times become engrossed in another detail of the game.
Without going into much detail, games like A Dark Room, Candy Box, or its sequel can very much draw you in. I hesitate to describe too much, because there is just so much to discover, and the discovery, of course, is the fun. An “iceberg” analogy seems especially fitting here in describing the depth of these games. Is there an endgame? Some sense of finality? Don’t ask me. I have not found one yet, but that is not for lack of trying. Everytime I start one of these games I find new things to do or quicker ways to the things I do know. It is a steady pursuit to find new surprises.
I think the reason these games are so incredible is that expectations are almost nonexistent. It is hard to come up with broad comparisons to other games. Instead, you find some of the better elements of different genres of games. They are more involved than text adventures or point-and-clicks, or at least they seem to be. There are some strategic choices you have to make. The simple concept masks a much more fulfilling experience. There are enough facets to keep you constantly wanting to advance further into the game. Your style of gameplay can be passive or active, meaning the game can last as long or as short as you want. I’m pretty sure “graphics” (or lack thereof) do not matter in this discussion.2 It is just not easy to form a good complaint against these types of games. Again, unless you’re a cynic.
When I showed A Dark Room to a friend, at first he said he could see the potential for fun, but I could tell he was not fully committed. An hour later, I hear: “Am I on a quest? Is this an RPG?” Whether you are into video games or not, simple, browser-based games can be worth hours of enjoyment. I’ll be seeing you on the dusty path.
1 The Internet is a big place. By far, these are not the only games worth playing in your browser. Interesting new choices turn up daily that can be very rewarding. In fact, most genres are well represented with free browser-based clones. I am speaking only about two games that are somewhat similar, yet hard to classify.↩
2 And besides, Dwarf Fortress looks just as good and is wildly popular in some circles.↩
Monday, January 13, 2014
On Jack Morris
Another year of voting for induction to the National Baseball Hall of Fame has come to a close. Stellar pitchers Tom Glavine and Greg Maddux fittingly entered together, as did Frank Thomas, the “Big Hurt,” probably the best designated hitter in history of the game. And what a solid class of 2014 this is. These were the players I remembered most from my formative years of watching baseball. But this was not a year without controversy. This year also marked the final year Jack Morris was eligible for consideration. 75% of the vote is required for the induction; he received just north of 60%.
First and foremost, let me make some disclaimers. One: I was born in 1991. Jack Morris threw his last game in 1994. I never saw Morris pitch, and if I did, I would not remember it today. Anything I know about Morris is what I have read or seen in video. The sharp drops of his splitter would mean a whole lot more to me had I been around to see him pitch, to be sure. Now, I have to resort to looking objectively at stats as opposed to watching him live (which is much more boring).
Second disclaimer: I am a staunch Tigers fan, through and through. I feel I need to get that out of the way before I make the argument for Morris’s candidacy for the Hall of Fame. I’m sure there are people who could make just as valid arguments about players from 29 other teams, and I feel for them, as well. All I can say is that Jack Morris stands among the top in players missing out on the Hall. It is a travesty that he was not elected. Perhaps it is not as grossly unfair as Pete Rose’s situation, but quite tragic all the same.
Morris’s career was an illustrious one, to say the least. For 18 years, from 1977 to 1994, Jack Morris was winning games for four different ball clubs. The bulk of his time was spent in Detroit, but his final four years were spent in Minnesota, Toronto, and Cleveland. During this time, he was not simply the ace of a staff; he was arguably the best pitcher of the 1980s.
Impressive accolades begin to look like a laundry list. Morris was elected to five All-Star games and started three of them. He led three teams to four World Series championships, winning an impressive seven postseason games and boasting a sub-3.00 ERA in the World Series. In 1983, probably his most successful season, he led the league in strikeouts with 232 on his way to winning 20 games. The 1984 season picked up right where he left off with a no-hitter—in the fourth game of the season. This proved to be his first World Series year where we was a perfect 3-0 in the postseason. He led the league in wins in 1981 and 1992, an incredible eleven years apart. Perhaps most unbelievable was that 162 wins came in the 1980s, making him the winningest pitcher of the decade. 1 That bears repeating: no pitcher had more wins in the 1980s than Jack Morris.
So, why is he not Hall of Fame material? Several issues seem to hold him back. True, he never captured the elusive Cy Young trophy, given to the year’s best pitcher in each league. In his 1983 season, he finished 3rd in the voting, with a 27% share of the vote. This was the nearest he came to being a Cy Young winner. But surely the absence of this award does not outright merit exclusion from the Hall? A second complaint against his stats was a disappointingly high ERA. His ERA was never below 3.00 during the regular season. He simply faced a lot of batters and gave up a lot of runs. And with the elevated ERA naturally came more losses. In fact, his last six years, during which his ERA was at its highest, he had three losing seasons. His control suffered, too, throughout his years pitching. He led the league in wild pitches an amazing four times in the 1980s.
All in all, of course some of his stats could have been improved. But throughout his career, he consistently did two things: he threw a lot of innings and he won a lot of games. From 1979 to 1989, his lowest win total for a season was 14 games. And his durability was exceptional as well. He led the league in Innings Pitched in his spectacular 1983 season. Of his starts, nearly a third of them ended up complete games. Both of his wins in the 1984 World Series (Games 1 and 4) were complete games. This type of inning economy is rarely seen in baseball today.
The closest Morris came was in his 14th time on the ballot in 2013, when he received 67.7% of the vote, about 40 votes short. For a team as filled with history as the Detroit Tigers, it is a shame that not one player is recognized from their most recent championship. Alan Trammell, shortstop of that 1984 team, is still on the ballot for two more years, but his vote hovers around 20% or 30%. Then-manager, Sparky Anderson, was inducted in 2000, but as a Cincinnati Red. But that is neither here nor there. The fact remains that one of the most complete Tigers teams in history—leading the division from the first game of the season to the final game of the World Series—does not have a representative from the team in Hall of Fame. Jack Morris should have been that person.
1 By comparison, Nolan Ryan had 40 less wins during these years.↩
First and foremost, let me make some disclaimers. One: I was born in 1991. Jack Morris threw his last game in 1994. I never saw Morris pitch, and if I did, I would not remember it today. Anything I know about Morris is what I have read or seen in video. The sharp drops of his splitter would mean a whole lot more to me had I been around to see him pitch, to be sure. Now, I have to resort to looking objectively at stats as opposed to watching him live (which is much more boring).
Second disclaimer: I am a staunch Tigers fan, through and through. I feel I need to get that out of the way before I make the argument for Morris’s candidacy for the Hall of Fame. I’m sure there are people who could make just as valid arguments about players from 29 other teams, and I feel for them, as well. All I can say is that Jack Morris stands among the top in players missing out on the Hall. It is a travesty that he was not elected. Perhaps it is not as grossly unfair as Pete Rose’s situation, but quite tragic all the same.
Morris’s career was an illustrious one, to say the least. For 18 years, from 1977 to 1994, Jack Morris was winning games for four different ball clubs. The bulk of his time was spent in Detroit, but his final four years were spent in Minnesota, Toronto, and Cleveland. During this time, he was not simply the ace of a staff; he was arguably the best pitcher of the 1980s.
Impressive accolades begin to look like a laundry list. Morris was elected to five All-Star games and started three of them. He led three teams to four World Series championships, winning an impressive seven postseason games and boasting a sub-3.00 ERA in the World Series. In 1983, probably his most successful season, he led the league in strikeouts with 232 on his way to winning 20 games. The 1984 season picked up right where he left off with a no-hitter—in the fourth game of the season. This proved to be his first World Series year where we was a perfect 3-0 in the postseason. He led the league in wins in 1981 and 1992, an incredible eleven years apart. Perhaps most unbelievable was that 162 wins came in the 1980s, making him the winningest pitcher of the decade. 1 That bears repeating: no pitcher had more wins in the 1980s than Jack Morris.
So, why is he not Hall of Fame material? Several issues seem to hold him back. True, he never captured the elusive Cy Young trophy, given to the year’s best pitcher in each league. In his 1983 season, he finished 3rd in the voting, with a 27% share of the vote. This was the nearest he came to being a Cy Young winner. But surely the absence of this award does not outright merit exclusion from the Hall? A second complaint against his stats was a disappointingly high ERA. His ERA was never below 3.00 during the regular season. He simply faced a lot of batters and gave up a lot of runs. And with the elevated ERA naturally came more losses. In fact, his last six years, during which his ERA was at its highest, he had three losing seasons. His control suffered, too, throughout his years pitching. He led the league in wild pitches an amazing four times in the 1980s.
All in all, of course some of his stats could have been improved. But throughout his career, he consistently did two things: he threw a lot of innings and he won a lot of games. From 1979 to 1989, his lowest win total for a season was 14 games. And his durability was exceptional as well. He led the league in Innings Pitched in his spectacular 1983 season. Of his starts, nearly a third of them ended up complete games. Both of his wins in the 1984 World Series (Games 1 and 4) were complete games. This type of inning economy is rarely seen in baseball today.
The closest Morris came was in his 14th time on the ballot in 2013, when he received 67.7% of the vote, about 40 votes short. For a team as filled with history as the Detroit Tigers, it is a shame that not one player is recognized from their most recent championship. Alan Trammell, shortstop of that 1984 team, is still on the ballot for two more years, but his vote hovers around 20% or 30%. Then-manager, Sparky Anderson, was inducted in 2000, but as a Cincinnati Red. But that is neither here nor there. The fact remains that one of the most complete Tigers teams in history—leading the division from the first game of the season to the final game of the World Series—does not have a representative from the team in Hall of Fame. Jack Morris should have been that person.
1 By comparison, Nolan Ryan had 40 less wins during these years.↩
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