Conjure in your mind a picture of the ideal closer. I don’t mean try to think of what Mariano Rivera looked like, but rather the Platonic ideal of what a closer should be. Maybe he’s long and lanky, a la Aroldis Chapman or perhaps he’s a burly veteran who takes his sweet time getting out to the mound, like Big Lee Smith. For me, it’s a guy who looks like he rode to the park on a Harley, hair and beard windblown and maybe even speckled with the remains of the insects he encountered on his commute.
When You’re Hot, You’re Hot and When You’re Motte, You’re Motte
