Since reading my first Bill Simmons column a few years back, I have been in love. I know what you're thinking but no, I didn't fall for ole Billy. (However, in a related note, he did quickly establish himself as my favorite sports writer.) No, I fell for the sport/movie extended metaphor which plays a role in Bill's unique style and sense of humor.
The love affair was only natural. My two favorite things to discuss and watch, sports and movies, combined in a humorous and informative way into one topic is one of the best things I have happened across in the last few years. Well, that and Christopher Nolan's filmography. Comparing seemingly unrelated movies and the happenings in the current sports landscape is not only a challenging mental exercise, but a way to create a hybrid topic which appeals to both film fanatics and sports supporters. So without further ado, in honor of Mr. Simmons and a topic which has frustrated myself and many of my St. Louis-based friends, I give you Groundhog Franklin.
Any baseball fan around 18 years of age or older has had the feeling for at least a season (or maybe two or three). Your roster has someone established as your closer who just absolutely loses their stuff. They can't paint the corners. They hang breaking balls. They get a pained look across their face eerily similar to Steve Bartman in Game 6 as they watch balls sail out of the park. And the guy who had 30 saves for your team last year now has a 8.75 ERA and an extremely bruised ego.
Enter the 2011 edition of the St. Louis Cardinals and their closer, Ryan Franklin, two years removed from a season where he had 38 saves and a 1.92 ERA. First game of the 2011 season, the Cardinals have a 3-2 lead entering the bottom of the ninth inning. Franklin retires the first two batters with deceitful ease. Then hangs a breaking ball that David Eckstein could have hit 500 hit feet to Cameron Maybin, who proceeds to launch it out of the park for a game-tying home run. Needless to say, the Cards lost in 11 innings. And then, as New Found Glory famously says, "it's all downhill from here." Franklin goes on to blow 4 out of 5 save opportunities, compile a pleasant 0-3 record, and accumulate a sadly robust 8.68 ERA in 9.1 innings of work.
Now how does this tie into a sports/movie metaphor? Well, from my perspective, watching Franklin stroll in from the bullpen makes me feel like Phil Connors hearing those sad Sonny and Cher lyrics, "then put your little hand in mine," over and over and over again as he repeats the same day of his life in the movie Groundhog Day. The parallels begin at the beginning of the movie, with Phil being a successful yet mean-spirited meteorologist. Franklin, while not mean-spirited, had success at the beginning of his tenure in St. Louis. However, things take a turn for the worst for both gentlemen when Phil gets stuck in his time loop and Franklin gets stuck in his "I can't hold a lead to save my life" phase.
Franklin's demotion from the closer role is the equivalent of Phil's "I'm going to attempt as many forms of suicide as possible" phase. Both hit the lowest of lows and are overcome with despair. Franklin decides to decry St. Louis fans, who have a well-known reputation as being some of the best fans in baseball, and Phil steals Punxsutawney Phil (the famous groundhog) and drives off a cliff. Old RF then gets thrown into several vital but non-save opportunities during the latter parts of close games. He continues to fail miserably just as Phil attempts to do good deeds and embrace the townspeople in order to break the time loop and inevitably still fails. The feeling Cardinals fans get when Franklin gives up a late inning RBI single is similar to the same feeling Phil gets when his love interest, Rita, slaps him after several failed advances. Both Cards fans and Phil are left with a pained, though not quite shocked, look on their face. Because let's be honest, this has happened before.
To further delve into the metaphor let's say that Tony LaRussa is Punxsutawney Phil because he went down with the ship that is Franklin, in a similar fashion that the groundhog went down in flames with Phil Connors as they drove off the cliff. Colby Rasmus is the infamous Ned Ryerson, a dunce-type insurance salesman who went to high school with Phil and happens to see him in Punxsutawney though the parallels are merely a comment on both inviduals apparent level of intelligence. Albert Pujols (at least the 2011 version) is the homeless man that Phil attempts to save from his imminent death before the day is over. Both characters are loveable and you want to see them succeed, but they keep ripping your hear out. The Cardinals' starting pitching staff are the Punxsutawney townspeople, both of which are continually getting screwed by Franklin and Phil, respectively. And Lance Berkman is Rita, because he has been saving Franklin's ass from avoiding an early-season implosion by putting up ridiculous numbers, much in the way Rita saves Phil and aides in the breaking of the time loop.
Fortunately for Phil, he does eventually get to February 3rd by befriending the townspeople and living a "perfect" day. Unfortunately for Cardinals' fans, there has been no indication that Franklin will ever reach a similar epiphany, as he continues to miss his spots and serve up gopher balls to unassuming hitters. The repetition is quite sickening. Close game, Franklin enters, Cardinals fans groan, he gives up some runs. Phil wakes up, hears Sonny cooing those words, smashes his alarm clock, and lives another Groundhog Day.
Currently, there is no end in sight. Franklin entered Sunday with the game tied and would get the loss by allowing a walk-off single in the ninth. At least Phil Connors got to hone some skills while stuck in the time warp, including learning French and how to ice sculpt and play the piano. I don't think Franklin has really learned anything, except how to turn some of baseball's best fans against you and make mediocre hitters look as clutch as Big Papi circa 2004. Sadly, LaRussa continues to stubbornly put Franklin in in clutch situations. And Franklin continues to drop the ball, or in this case, allow the ball to leave the park at extremely high velocities.
For the time being, Cardinals fans are stuck in quite a time loop, but look on the bright side: at least there's no Sonny and Cher involved in this one.
