Justin Smoak has been a colossal disappointment for most of his Major League career. Much of that is because he has been objectively terrible at hitting. A small part of that disappointment though likely comes from the high points that we have seen from him. An even smaller part is that he apparently fells entire trees to make a bat, which just seems terribly wasteful, Justin.

It had gotten so bad that I have been honestly surprised that the Mariners do not seem committed to having him start the 2013 season in Tacoma. Their public support for him thus far could be fluff. We'll find out more in April, but it's still been more than I'd expected. That's mainly because in mind now he is, and always has been, really bad at hitting.

Then it struck me yesterday that it was Justin Smoak who began the 2011 season on a torrid pace. It presumably wasn't an alien doppelgänger that has since returned to his/her/its own time/dimension/planet. I have vivid emotional memories from that time about my level of excitement for having a true slugger on the team for the first time in years. And then Smoak just crapped all over the place.