Jekyll and Hydegrove Strike Again  By Bob Bryant - March 31 , 2006

The echo reverberated throughout the laboratory. Doctor Henry Jekyll made his way carefully through the labyrinthine clutter of experiments as they percolated merrily or sinisterly - it all depended on one's point of view.

"Why, if isn't my old friend Hydegrove, fresh from Seattle! I certainly wasn't expecting to see you! Come in!"

The massive figure crouched in the doorway for a moment, looking to and fro. "No reporters? Investigators?  Players looking for your latest formula?"

The wiry bespectacled figure shook his head, smiling. "No, Hydegrove. I'm out of that business these days. It was good to me for a long time, 'tis true. After all, I had the corner on the market for, what was it? Nearly a hundred years? Ever since my first experiments on myself, and after Babe Ruth and Ty Cobb came to see me all those years ago...yes, there were some good times, but these new genetic engineers have just whizzed by me like I'm standing still. It's no longer 'Better Living Through Chemistry', I'm afraid, dear fellow." He sighed. "It's all about genetic markers these days. I can't compete with a Bunsen burner and some foul-tasting green liquid."

"Yes, I know what you mean, Jekyll. Thank goodness they haven't yet started making the managers pee in a cup. I guess when that happens, they might come sniffing around here one more time, eh, Henry?" He punched Jekyll on the arm, the slight man wincing in response. "Well, just let me know if that happens, and I'll take care of 'em, just like we did in the old days!"

"Um, sure, sure, Hydegrove. Say, what brings you here? It's a long way from Seattle!"

"Why, Henry! Did you think I'd let a few thousand miles stand between us and our annual look at how the Orioles are going to do? Besides, managing a 90-plus-million-dollar ballclub to a sub-.500 finish is no day at the beach. I needed to get out of town for a bit." He pull Jekyll to him by the collar and speaks in a conspirator's whisper. "Say, Henry...think you could tweak my formula a bit? Something seems to be a bit off. I mean, I did so well in landing in Cleveland when I did, but then Baltimore when they were falling apart, and now Seattle? Something seems to have gone a bit haywire in the old timing department!"

"Sure, old friend, sure! I'm glad you're here again this year. you've been besting me at this for so many years now, being so down on the Birds and turning out to be right, but this year can be different. It's time for the Baby Birds to fly!"

Hydegrove snorted. "Oh, you really think so, do you? Tell me more!"

"The young pitchers are going to blossom this year. Another year's experience and now the Mazzone Magic, and things are really looking up! R-Lo is a great stabilizer, Bedard and Cabrera are on the rise, Benson will provide stability, and Chen truly blossomed a year ago!"

"R-Lo? What's that based on? This being an even-numbered year? Geez, Henry, let me get out the tarot cards while we're at it. They are capable of a more solid prediction than that.

"As for Bedard and Cabrera, one's a wimp and the other is a zip. Potential is for losers, Henry. Bedard has potential, Cabrera has potential. So did Ben McDonald. J.J. Bautista. Jose Mesa. The road to Palookaville is paved with losers with potential. Saddest words about a pitcher? 'If only.'

"As for Benson, the man's just about to get a very public divorce, and you expect him to be a stabilizing force? The sad thing about Benson is that everyone's treating his pending divorce like a Leno joke. Whatever you might think of Anna, they were husband and wife for eight years, and as crackpot as she might have been, he seemed to be happy married to her. If this were any other player heading into a messy divorce at the start of the season, there were be warning flags and sympathy flying around, not one-liners and shrugs of the shoulders.

"As for Bruce Chen, yeah, I've heard the names bandied about. Jamie Moyer. Randy Smith. Got another name for you. Jeff Ballard."

"Oh, Hydegrove. You're such a pessimist. What about the improved chemistry in the clubhouse with Conine and Millar on the club?"

"Careful, Henry. I'd think that you'd want 'chemistry' and 'O's clubhouse' to be pretty exclusive terms by now." Hydegrove sighed. "It is nice to have a club of merry men, a bunch of guys you really like and can root for. But it doesn't mask the fact that Millar and Conine's best days are behind them. They are replacement level guys on a good day. And they are going to be playing first and DH'ing. If Markakis doesn't pan out, they will be playing in left, too. Just where you want no-power mediocre no-defense guys to play."

"We can expect a big rebound from Javy Lopez now that he won't be getting dinged up behind the plate."

"Maybe. Conventional wisdom might point in that direction. But most guys see a drop-off in their numbers when they move from position player to full-time DH. Throw in that Javy's in a contract season and DH's aren't worth much, and you're looking at a potentially unproductive, unhappy guy."

"But B-Ro is back!"

"Yes, that is good news. But now that he's done his Joe Theisman imitation, who knows what you're going to get? And he has demonstrated that he's a better hitter than Jerry Hairston ever hoped he'd be, but he's not likely to be the hitter he was for the first four months of last season. He's good...but he ain't that good. Speaking of 'ain't that good', I guess you're going to bring up Mora next. Before you do, let me just say that I'm a big fan. But those numbers went down last year, and he's looking for a three-year payday that would reflect them still going up. And Melvin is a very sensitive guy. Think this is going to be a good year for him when the O's don't give him the money?"

"Yes, I do! And I expect a rebound from Miggy, as well!"

"Of all your rose-colored thinking, Jekyll, I'd concur with this one the most. I think he probably will rebound. But if some of your kid pitchers don't bust out of nowhere, I expect him to be smoldering like dried mulch in the heat of August. And just like that mulch, he's likely to spontaneously combust!"

"But, Nick Markakis! Sendy Rheal! Chris Ray!"

"Nice stories, all. Congrats to them. Even if they are successful, though, and Ramon Hernandez does play well, and Gibbons finally breaks out, you've still got nothing more than a .500 club here...at best. At worst, it's another eight games under .500, dueling with the Nats for the worst Atlantic Seaboard record, and with the Devil Rays for the AL East cellar."

"Goodness, Hydegrove, I'd forgotten just what a pessimist you are!"

The ogre-like man wagged an enlongated index finger. "Realist, Henry. I'm a realist. If you want to put your money where your mouth is, let's have a friendly wager."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Pick all the teams in both leagues, where they finish, their record, who makes the playoffs, who doesn't...the league champs in each, and the winner of the championship...doesn't seem right to call it the World Series any more, does it? The one who comes closest overall wins...let's say...twenty-five dollars?"

"Let the game begin!"

"Okay, Henry. I'll make my picks on the message board, and everyone can follow suit until the end of the NCAA Championship Game Monday night."

"You're on, Hydegrove!"

"Well, it's been nice, Henry, but I must go. Got to drive over to Capitol Hill today, see a guy named Marshall. Ever heard of him?"