ST. PETERSBURG - Surely it is a coincidence. Not a consequence. Not a repercussion. Just an odd mingling of timing and happenstance.
But you have noticed it, right?
How success arrived around the same time Ben Grieve departed?
You should know that one has little to do with the other. You should recognize Grieve was a tiny part of a much larger problem.
You should understand it all, but still you wonder. Is this some sort of divine sign?
Now that they have rid themselves of the last of their big-money mistakes, are the Rays free to succeed? Has the final unclean spirit been purged?
Because, you must admit, this team has been reborn. A month ago, it was desperate and well on the way to hopeless. At one point, the Rays were on a pace to lose more games than any American League team since 1939.
And just look at them now.
Since July 18, the day Grieve went on the disabled list, the Rays have gone 11-7. No one in the American League East has won more.
"We're not pushovers anymore," first baseman Travis Lee said.
These Rays play with a purpose. With a hunger. With a lot more scrapes on their elbows and scuffs on their knees than we have ever seen before.
The outfield is athletic. The offense is starting to come of age. The pitching is mostly shaky, but occasionally sensational.
They come from behind and they do it in style. With hustle. With aggression. With Damian Rolls creating a run in the seventh by beating out what should have been a routine fielder's choice. With a two-run, ninth-inning rally consisting of no more than a walk, two singles and lots of vigor. With Rocco Baldelli turning a third baseman's bobble into the winning run in the 10th.
Never have the Rays seemed so exciting. So enthusiastic. So utterly embraceable. You see, with a team so young, mistakes can be forgiven. With a payroll so low, losses are more easily tolerated. These Rays may not always succeed, but they rarely disappoint.
"The last couple of years, teams would come through here and they were working on their ERAs and working on their batting averages," catcher Toby Hall said. "It's different now."
This is what you have now that Grieve is gone. And Greg Vaughn. And Vinny Castilla. And Wilson Alvarez. And Juan Guzman.
In years past, fans were put off by millionaire players who did not perform. And players were frustrated with a team lacking focus.
Veterans grumbled about management. The front office tried to dump its goofs. In between were a group of younger players unsure of their roles in an increasingly depressing clubhouse.
"A lot of those guys were used to winning and they were put in a situation where there wasn't a lot of winning," rightfielder Aubrey Huff said. "They didn't want to be here. I felt bad for guys like Vaughnie and (John Flaherty) last year. You could see it in their faces. It was wearing them down.
"It's a lot different in here now. There are so many younger guys. It just seems more relaxed."
It is not just the clubhouse that has benefited. The lineup too is no longer burdened by too many obligations resulting in too little production.
Maybe it was because they were praying for a turnaround. Or hoping to generate trade interest. Or perhaps just mesmerized by the salaries. Whatever the reason, the Rays seemed obligated to play Grieve or Vaughn or Castilla or Gerald Williams until they could tolerate it no more.
Now there is a flexibility to the lineup. A democracy to the choice. With Grieve out of the picture, Rolls or Antonio Perez can find a place on the field.
"You couldn't be more pleased with the way the kids are playing," manager Lou Piniella said.
Some may be unimpressed by this recent success. Some may point out Tampa Bay remains buried at the bottom of the standings.
But even a critic can see this team has more hope than ever.
Of all the leftfielders that have passed by, have any been as intriguing as Carl Crawford? Have the Rays had a more athletic infield prospect than Perez? Which player has brought crowds to their feet as often as Baldelli?
"It's a whole different mood," Rolls said. "It used to be, when we saw Pedro Martinez on the mound, we'd chalk it up to a loss. Now we don't give a damn. We say, "Let's knock his a-- out of there.' We believe in ourselves."
This is not a great team. It's not even a real good team.
But, for the first time in forever, it is a team of promise. A team with a future not so far from sight.
The last of the big mistakes has been packed away. The final humiliation has been addressed. All that's left is faith.
