The HC: Doc Halladay-Baseball Surgeon

It wasn't easy to watch Cliff Lee leave Philadelphia this off-season. The instant folk hero who was the key ingredient to the club's second second straight NL Pennant, was an instant fan favorite due to his blue collar work ethic and knack for success. However when Cliff Lee left, in came Roy Halladay, who is making sure that Lee stays far in the rearview mirror. When Cliff came at last year's deadline Philadelphia hadn't seen a real ace since Curt Schilling left in the early 2000's. When Roy Halladay was signed this off season Philadelphia hadn't seen the league's best pitcher take the mound since Steve Carlton in the 80's; now they have again.

Reuben Amaro's big off-season acquisition has lived up to every single expectation pinned on him. In four starts this season Halladay is 4-0 with a 0.82 ERA, has pitched two complete games including one shut out, and has yet to pitch less than 7 innings in a start this year. His command? Spotless as well. In 33 innings he has given up 26 hits and 3, yes I said 3, walks. With Halladay on the mound Philadelphia is elevated to a whole new level that has them knowing that no team can stand in their way. The only question for Philly is Halladay's fellow staff members. If they begin to pitch at a higher level in the coming stages of the season it won't be long until the city, club, rest of the league are thinking about a new set of rings for the Broad St. Boys.

JD

The HC: Here's To Instant Classics

After last night, Saturday night baseball is being put up in the ranks of Monday Night Football; okay maybe not yet. Nonetheless history was made and fans were confined to the edges of their seats as the Mets, Cardinals, and Rockies all wrote their chapters in the story book of Major League Baseball. This weeks edition of the Hot Corner toasts two Saturday Night games that dropped jaws and made us all believe that somewhere, there could be baseball gods.

Yesterday, FOX Saturday Baseball hosted the New York Mets versus the St. Louis Cardinals. 43,709 fans barreled into Busch Stadium of St. Louis ready for a relaxed day of baseball, where they would be home just in time for dinner around seven o'clock. 19 pitchers, 130 at bats, 20 innings, and 6 hours and 53 minutes later, dinner was the last thing on anyone's mind. Not only did the Mets and Cardinals brawl for 20 or more innings for the 42nd time in baseball history, but they played eighteen frames (two full games) of scoreless baseball. When Jeff Francouer brought Jose Reyes home on a sacrifice fly to "interim" left fielder Kyle Lohse in the 19th, the Cards quickly tied the game on a Pujols double followed by a Yadier Molina single. Next came visions of the never-ending game. Sure enough, in the top of the 20th Jose Reyes scored Angel Pagan on another sac fly that would hold as the scoring run when Mike Pelfrey (the Mets 3rd starter) closed the door in the bottom of the inning. While the Mets and Cardinals knew they were making history with every pitch; they did not know they were also taking the Nation's eye off of another piece of history occurring at the exact same time in Atlanta, Georgia.

Saturday Night Rockies' ace Ubaldo Jimenez got in on the fun when he hurled the 243rd no-hitter in baseball history and the first in Colorado's. Ubaldo, who struck out seven and walked six, even had his way at the plate when he singled in a run and later scored in the 4th inning helping the Rockies jump out to a 4-0 lead that would stand as the game's final score. With no outs in the seventh Dexter Fowler did his best Dwayne Wise impression when he laid out to rob Troy Glaus of extra bases; stunning the Braves and keeping the no-hitter intact. When Jimenez retired Brian McCann with two outs in the ninth the folk tale was complete, the first no hitter in Rockies' history was in the books, and the ideal day of baseball was sauteed with something fans wouldn't soon forget.

Has a no hitter ever had to compete for the story of the night? Saturday night it did. To be matter of fact, what happened in St. Louis was far more rare than Jimenez's no-hitter. A 20 inning game ousts a no-hitter out of the top spot of National Sports news; never doubt that anything can happen.

JD

Bronco Meet Wildcat

Thursday the Miami Dolphins assessed their biggest need when they went out and acquired super diva Brandon Marshall from Denver. While the Dolphins know what they are getting on the field with Marshall, locker room performance is always a toss up for him. How will one of the league's most high maintenance receivers deal with an offense where he may be plan C, or even D? Miami runs the wild cat down to the core; but if they are going to keep their new pro-bowl toy happy, things will change, fast.

The Dolphins creativity and unpredictability has tagged them as a surprise team in each of the last two seasons. Tony Sparano as well as Bill Parcells brought the wildcat to the NFL, as one of the first teams to ever consistently utilize a tactic usually found in the NCAA. Now that more and more teams are adopting the wildcat into their systems, the Dolphins could very well be removing it from theirs. Their other option: Ignore Brandon Marshall and his long list of needs and pay the price of being torn apart in the media. Over the last couple of years Marshall has posted better numbers than the whole Dolphins receiving core, and that is no coincidence. Marshall is a super star receiver, but to have an affect on a game he needs to get his touches. Miami will stray from the wild cat if they want to, keep Marshall happy, and two, get their money's worth. But straying away from the wild cat means the loss of a franchise identity.

The Dolphins have not valued the quarterback position over the last couple of seasons solely because their offense doesn't call for one. With Chad Henne or Chad Pennington behind center this year, a good relationship with Marshall will be key. Josh McDaniel will not be there to keep him sane. The bottom line is that the Dolphins do not have the game plan nor the quarterback to accommodate a receiver with that much baggage. A good signing for Miami? Chalk one up for theory, not for reality.

JD

The HC: Carry On My 'Heyward', Son

Each Sunday the "Hot Corner" will pay its dues to a top player, team, story, or moment from the past week of Major League Baseball. With week one games coming to a close, like every year it was nothing more than a chance to make a good first impression, before diving into the 162 game marathon. So without further a due, inaugural Hot Corner honors go to Jason Heyward; who is swinging a big stick, and quickly redefining rookie "initiation" in 2010.

Heyward's 6'4'', 220 pound frame was more than enough to raise eyebrows at Braves' camp this March, and that was before they all saw him swing. Heyward quickly made himself a top Spring Training story when his mouth opening size was complimented by eye opening skill, which would eventually earn him a spot in Bobby Cox's opening day lineup. Would it take some time for Heyward to get settled in at the Major League level? That would just be uncharacteristic of the 20 year old who carries himself like a seasoned vet. In Jason's first at bat he blasted a three-run bomb off of Carlos Zambrano, the career milestone in a game where Heyward drove in four and even caught the ceremonial first pitch from Atlanta legend Hank Aaron. Heyward grabbed the Opening Day spotlight when his first swing in a Braves uniform sent the ball all the way into the Braves' bullpen in right field, becoming the fourth Brave ever to homer in his first at bat. Saturday night, coming off three games where he hit 1 for 12, Heyward showed already that he can bounce back, when he went 3 for 3 with a Home run, helping the Braves hand the Giants their first loss of the season. With aging power hitters Troy Glaus and Chipper Jones slowly fading out of their primes, the Braves will need Heyward as a power hitter who will be called upon a lot to drive in runs and occasionally put this offense on his back.

JD

My Field of Dreams

As a Sophomore on the Abington Friends School Varsity Baseball team I had the privilege of going down to Vero Beach, Florida for Spring Training for the second consecutive year. While last year's trip was a lot of beach, bowling, and bloating, this year was going to be "strictly baseball," the way Spring Training was "supposed" to be. In addition to the practices at the High School our AD graduated from, this year we were hitting Dodgergown, the former Spring Training home of the LA Dodgers. In 2006 enough money was put on the table to convince the Dodgers to move from Vero to Glendale, Arizona. This switch has taken a horrible toll on the Vero Beach economy, but in return has given average High School players like me, the chance to for one week, feel like a pro.

Dodgertown was officially opened in 1953 when the Dodgers were still in Brooklyn. When the team moved to Los Angeles, they became one of the only West Coast teams to still train on the East Coast. The construction cost was 117 million, with Holman Stadium, Dodgertown's main attraction, sitting right in the middle of it. When Branch Rickey signed Jackie Robinson, as the first player ever to make the jump from the Negro Leagues to the MLB, Florida did not respond well. When hotels wouldn't let the Dodgers stay in them because of Robinson, Dodgertown built apartments. The Dodgers were no longer permitted to any Florida golf courses, so what do the Dodgers do? They built a golf course. With an all-white team the Dodgers Spring Training facilities would have been bullpens and fields, Jackie was the one who made it a town. But not just any town; a town far different than any I have ever been to; a town that was all baseball in 1953, and is all baseball in 2010.

Wednesday night was our first scheduled game, 7:30, under the lights at Holman; the big field. We got there at 5:30 and hit in the cages next to the stadium, but who could focus? Our trek to the field was through the bullpen, a real bull pen, and right past the right field foul pole. We stayed in foul territory as the grounds crew finished up watering the infield and sculpting the batters box. We laughed because in Philadelphia, the grounds crew is us. The first thing I do when we are cleared to go on the field is take the mound. Don't get me wrong, I don't pitch; but standing on the same mound as Koufax and Drysdale sent shivers up my spine. I ran out to third base for the home half of the first inning. It was just about dark and the lights had just come on. I looked up at them and they hit my eyes hard; anyone inside my head would have called me a rookie. Someone yelled and I looked over to find that our only fans were a few parents and a team from Staten Island all competing over two girls. This was the big time? I was digging it. With one out I cleanly field a sharp ground ball but badly screw up my arm on a throw that missed way wide of first, and I'm sidelined. Just like that the dream experience of playing on a professional baseball field went down the drain. I watched the rest of the game from the sideline and knew that my week was over when just merely bending my arm made me cringe in pain.

I wasn't going to let it completely ruin the experience. The next night we played in Holman again, same time. I cherished the experience of standing in the same dug out as Tommy Lasorda, or squatting in the same spot as Roy Campanella once had. In the fifth inning my coach pinch hit me even though I was really struggling to throw the bat through the zone. I swung in the same on deck circle as Pee Wee Reese and then stepped into the same batter's box as Robinson himself. That was enough for me. I got a bad strike called on me, down and in, and took a quick glance back at the umpire and for a second, imagined a full crowd behind him wondering where the pitch was, just like me. When I painfully went down swinging I walked back to the dug out swearing to myself, walking away with Strike two in my head and a life time's worth of baseball experience in my back pocket.

The run down real estate and boarded up shops of Vero Beach are components of a recession driven by the departure of the Dodgers. As selfish as it may sound, the departure of the Dodgers also drove the time of my life. Yes, I was on the disabled list, but looking over the left field scoreboard, with the sun dipping just below the palm trees lining the outfield fence, I tagged Holman as my Field of Dreams. Where for just one at bat, I held the stick of something more than a High School utility infielder, when I dug my cleats into the dirt and stared deep into the Florida night.

JD