So has Rudy Giuliani thrown himself off a bridge yet? Anybody check old man Steinbrenner's pulse recently? Because in case you haven't heard, the Yankees are now doomed like the Gosselin kids. People who picked Yankees in five, as I did, are now switching to Phillies in three.
New York fell in Game One. In the Bronx. So all is lost. Just as it was against the Braves in '96, when they were the underdogs and they came up on the short end in the first two games at home.
Okay, maybe last night was a solitary game, but the trend lines don't look good. After all, over their last three contests, the Yankees are playing .333 ball -- worst in the Majors. ARod's made four consecutive outs. If he keeps that up, he'll go 0-28 in a seven-game series.
And tonight it's AJ Burnett against Pedro Martinez. Had NY won Game One, the analysis of Game Two would look like this: Pedro is old. He's not the same pitcher he was when Britney Spears was a virgin. Burnett has electric stuff. Then Pettitte and Sabathia and lights out.
In the shadow of one defeat, here's the conventional wisdom: Pedro has found new life. Burnett is inconsistent. He's never been a big game pitcher. Philadelphia has wrested away home field advantage.
Even people with severe bi-polar disorder don't skip from euphoria to depression every day. It's got to make you dizzy.
Far be it for me to break up a good dose of mental illness, but might I mention that the Phillies won because a single pitcher threw a great game, and he'll be starting only once more in the Series?
Haha, silly logical guy! That doesn't fill up a three-hour radio show! You don't need a Baseball Analyst to tell you that it's just one game. Baseball Analysts make their money revealing things that have no basis in fact, and so can't be disproved. Things like, ARod is tightening up. (Apparently Kate Hudson's spell has worn off.) Things like, you'd rather have Ryan Howard (batting average this year vs. lefties: .204) than Mark Teixeira at first base in the playoffs because Tex lacks post-season experience. (This nugget came from Rob Dibble, a veritable font of non-sequiturs.)
I can't wait until tomorrow's analysis if the Yankees win Game Two.
b
29 October 2009
28 October 2009
Are You (World) Serious?
Could baseball have it any more wrong in the playoffs? It's as if Bud Selig were working for the NFL.
They play 2430 games during the regular season, almost all of them in pristine conditions. If it's freezing or raining, they postpone the game.
In the playoffs, when the World Championship is on the line, they play in rain and cold together. They play in insect infestations. What's next, slaying of the first born? Game One of the World Series this year, and Game Three last year, were both mockeries, with fans huddling and players squinting through the elements in their long sleeves. You think steroids corrupted the great history of baseball? How about outfielders running through ponds during the World Series?
In the regular season, teams play six days out of seven. They need at least a four starters, and often five. In the playoffs, when the mettle of the finest clubs are being tested, they alter the game. Scheduling contests every other day -- as if it were yoga class -- creates an advantage for teams with thin staffs. Scheduling four-five-six-day breaks between series simulates -- what? The All-Star break, perhaps. Think how many showers Manny could take.
The one change MLB should make to the playoffs -- schedule East Coast games at 7:00 p.m. -- is the one overlooked. The result is that only the unemployed -- admittedly a growing cohort -- can watch to the end. When fans can't see the conclusions of the most consequential contests of the season, they lose ownership and interest in the sport.
Maybe it's a coincidence that the last good World Series was eight years ago. Maybe it's not. But let's not argue about it in the freezing rain.
b
They play 2430 games during the regular season, almost all of them in pristine conditions. If it's freezing or raining, they postpone the game.
In the playoffs, when the World Championship is on the line, they play in rain and cold together. They play in insect infestations. What's next, slaying of the first born? Game One of the World Series this year, and Game Three last year, were both mockeries, with fans huddling and players squinting through the elements in their long sleeves. You think steroids corrupted the great history of baseball? How about outfielders running through ponds during the World Series?
In the regular season, teams play six days out of seven. They need at least a four starters, and often five. In the playoffs, when the mettle of the finest clubs are being tested, they alter the game. Scheduling contests every other day -- as if it were yoga class -- creates an advantage for teams with thin staffs. Scheduling four-five-six-day breaks between series simulates -- what? The All-Star break, perhaps. Think how many showers Manny could take.
The one change MLB should make to the playoffs -- schedule East Coast games at 7:00 p.m. -- is the one overlooked. The result is that only the unemployed -- admittedly a growing cohort -- can watch to the end. When fans can't see the conclusions of the most consequential contests of the season, they lose ownership and interest in the sport.
Maybe it's a coincidence that the last good World Series was eight years ago. Maybe it's not. But let's not argue about it in the freezing rain.
b
25 October 2009
Coupla Quick Notes
Vlad Guerrero just keeps getting more embarrassing. I just watched him hit a slow roller up the middle that Derek Jeter ran down on the outfield grass facing the wrong way, twist his body sideways and snap off a half-speed throw that Guerrero beat by the width of Joe Buck's objectivity. The play took four minutes and forty-eight seconds; an overweight ant running uphill through molasses could have beaten that one out by two strides.
Then Guerrero removes his batting helmet and puts on his bonehead, getting himself doubled off first when Nick Swisher caught a lollipop in shallow right and found the baserunner languidly trespassing in the second base hole. If Bobby Cox were the manager of the Angels he'd have walked to first base to yank his DH from the game.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Remember that choker, Alex Rodriguez? He's batting .419 with five homers as I write this, including several key hits. How has he turned it around?
It's obvious: Kate Hudson. No wait, it's that he finally unburdened himself about steroid use. No, no, it's Derek Jeter's leadership. No wait...
No, wait. ARod is one of the 20 greatest players of all time. A guy like that is going to endure cold spells, as he has in other playoff appearances, but he's inevitably going to get hot for nine games (so far). This performance isn't surprising; in fact, it was inevitable.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm not put off much by umpires blowing judgment calls. Law enforcement professionals know that eye witnesses are extraordinarily poor at correctly identifying crime scene details and that their testimony is almost completely unreliable. (That doesn't stop them from using eye witnesses when it's advantageous to them.) Any of us would blow our share of safe/out, fair/foul, ball/strike plays that are measured in millimeters at full speed.
But umpires not knowing the rules is unconscionable.
It's now happened twice in the ALCS -- and I can't help but notice that both times the break went to the Yankees. The Who's On Third routine in Game 5 wasn't ultimately determinative, but the Game 2 goof on a wild pitch that went into the stands cost LA the game and altered the series.
I don't think it's anything but a coincidence; still, how can I be sure?
Ultimately, we can talk all we want about replays, but before we do, how about employing umps who know the rules?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Fox crew has made a point of reminding us that the Yankees haven't been to the World Series since way back in 2003. Oh, the suffering!
I'm sure all the fans in Pittsburgh and Kansas City are sobbing in sympathy and reaching for their checkbooks to send a donation. The same in Seattle. And in Dallas. And Toronto, Baltimore, Minnesota, Oakland, Anaheim, Atlanta, Washington, Cincinnati, San Diego, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Queens and Chicago's North Side.
b
Then Guerrero removes his batting helmet and puts on his bonehead, getting himself doubled off first when Nick Swisher caught a lollipop in shallow right and found the baserunner languidly trespassing in the second base hole. If Bobby Cox were the manager of the Angels he'd have walked to first base to yank his DH from the game.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Remember that choker, Alex Rodriguez? He's batting .419 with five homers as I write this, including several key hits. How has he turned it around?
It's obvious: Kate Hudson. No wait, it's that he finally unburdened himself about steroid use. No, no, it's Derek Jeter's leadership. No wait...
No, wait. ARod is one of the 20 greatest players of all time. A guy like that is going to endure cold spells, as he has in other playoff appearances, but he's inevitably going to get hot for nine games (so far). This performance isn't surprising; in fact, it was inevitable.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm not put off much by umpires blowing judgment calls. Law enforcement professionals know that eye witnesses are extraordinarily poor at correctly identifying crime scene details and that their testimony is almost completely unreliable. (That doesn't stop them from using eye witnesses when it's advantageous to them.) Any of us would blow our share of safe/out, fair/foul, ball/strike plays that are measured in millimeters at full speed.
But umpires not knowing the rules is unconscionable.
It's now happened twice in the ALCS -- and I can't help but notice that both times the break went to the Yankees. The Who's On Third routine in Game 5 wasn't ultimately determinative, but the Game 2 goof on a wild pitch that went into the stands cost LA the game and altered the series.
I don't think it's anything but a coincidence; still, how can I be sure?
Ultimately, we can talk all we want about replays, but before we do, how about employing umps who know the rules?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Fox crew has made a point of reminding us that the Yankees haven't been to the World Series since way back in 2003. Oh, the suffering!
I'm sure all the fans in Pittsburgh and Kansas City are sobbing in sympathy and reaching for their checkbooks to send a donation. The same in Seattle. And in Dallas. And Toronto, Baltimore, Minnesota, Oakland, Anaheim, Atlanta, Washington, Cincinnati, San Diego, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Queens and Chicago's North Side.
b
18 October 2009
A Brief Digression
When I was in college, there was no Division 1A college football league (or FCS, god helps us). The Ivy League was a Division 1 football league just like the Big 12. (Except that there was no Big 12 then; there was a Big Eight featuring Oklahoma and Nebraska and a Southwest Conference featuring Arkansas and Texas and the two merged, spilling non-complaint programs into other conferences like the Southeast and yet-to-be-formed Mountain West and Conference USA. But I digress from my digression.)
One year, one or another collection of student-athletes representing an Ivy League school got off to a 4-0 start and was ranked in the Top 25, or at least that's how I vaguely remember it. For certain, they got a significant number of votes (not amount of votes, for you sports reporters who don't know grammar from your Gramma) for defeating the likes of Brown, Army and Lafayette.
Today, of course, the division distinction makes it obvious to us that even an undefeated Ivy League team probably couldn't beat the worst Big Ten team on its worst day, and certainly couldn't compete with a middle-of-the-pack BCS program, much less merit a Top 25 ranking. It's absurd. But absent any guides, some voters saw the record and put Yale or Penn or whoever it was on their big board.
All of which I've been reminded of lately as the radio and TV sports talkers bandy about hypothetical runs of the table for some teams -- notably Cincinnati, TCU and Boise State -- and, in many cases, bemoan the injustice of keeping them out of a championship game despite their unblemished won-loss record. The argument that an undefeated team should get some automatic bonus reward is just as absurd as voting an Ivy League team into the Top 25.
The truth is that as long as we don't have a playoff system or an objective way of comparing teams in far-flung conferences, we have to rely on subjective measures, like watching them play. If all we're examining is a team's record, we can have monkeys vote for the national champion, which is what we did in 1984, when a BYU squad that wasn't one of the 10 best teams in America was awarded the championship based on a zero in the loss column in a third-rate league and a signature win in the last quarter against a 6-6 Michigan contingent that finished sixth in the Big Ten.
Another truth is that your schedule matters. Playing as a championship contender in the SEC means that you're going to play four teams that can beat you even if you play well, and four more that can beat you if you don't. Going 10-1 in that crucible is mighty impressive. Playing as a national championship contender in the Big East this year means that there are only one or two games that you could lose without falling on your face.
It's not just that Florida or Alabama or Texas has more tough games than Cincinnati, it's the compounding effects those battles have. Cincinnati can rest a star player during the Syracuse game so he's at full speed against [insert whoever might be any good besides them in the Big East this year] the following week. (Try this argument on Boise State: they can rest regulars against Nevada, Louisiana Tech, Idaho, New Mexico State, Hawaii...indeed their entire league schedule in order to be fresh for the one game that will make or break their season. Plus, they can save their trick plays and surprise strategies for that one game.) Alabama can't rest anyone against Georgia and Tennessee in order to prepare for LSU. Boise State can hope for the breaks to go their way in their one tossup game against Oregon, but Texas can't expect to have luck on their side against Oklahoma, Texas Tech, Missouri and Kansas. They have to outplay most of those teams to go undefeated.
All that said, there's something to be learned by just watching teams play and observing that Cincinnati lacks Florida's team speed or size or tackling ability or whatever (probably all of these.) The reason you and I don't vote in the AP poll is that we're not experts; the voters are supposed to be. (Whether they are or not is another argument; I lack the expertise even to determine that.)
Besides, it's not as if Cincinnati slinks off back to chemistry class after earning the Big East crown. They would win a lovely BCS trip to Dallas or Tempe or Miami on New Year's week and an opportunity to show that, for one game at least, they belong.
As non-BCS schools, Boise State and TCU are different cases. Their first argument is for an invitation to a New Year's bowl game -- maybe against Cincinnati -- and that seems like a much more reasonable demand. We've seen repeatedly how an undermanned non-BCS team can turn a Bowl upside-down thrillingly and spill an elite 0pponent all over the grass.
Despite their impressive win over Oregon, Boise State has no case for the Championship Game this year even if they slay vaunted Idaho. Let's face it, if poll participants ranked teams based solely on how good they think the teams are, the Broncos wouldn't be in the Top 10, and maybe not in the Top 20. They would be a significant underdog on a neutral field against three-loss Oklahoma or two-loss Virginia Tech.
Now TCU, they're another story. First, the Mountain West is superior to the Big East this year, and the argument could be made versus the ACC as well. Certainly the Horned Frogs have significant challenges at BYU and at home against Utah, in addition to their modest win over Clemson. Should everyone else lose, they will get significant support for the title clash, and I'd be rooting for them. But I'd have a hard time justifying how 12-0 in the Mountain West is a greater accomplishment, or requires a better team, than 12-1 in the SEC or PAC 10. Slaying two dragons, two alligators and seven puppies is hardly the equal -- in my eyes -- of fighting off the Visigoths and sustaining one stab wound.
The bottom line is that if you want to play with the big boys, you're going to have to play the big boys as often as possible and be really impressive against the little ones. And I haven't seen too much of that.
b
One year, one or another collection of student-athletes representing an Ivy League school got off to a 4-0 start and was ranked in the Top 25, or at least that's how I vaguely remember it. For certain, they got a significant number of votes (not amount of votes, for you sports reporters who don't know grammar from your Gramma) for defeating the likes of Brown, Army and Lafayette.
Today, of course, the division distinction makes it obvious to us that even an undefeated Ivy League team probably couldn't beat the worst Big Ten team on its worst day, and certainly couldn't compete with a middle-of-the-pack BCS program, much less merit a Top 25 ranking. It's absurd. But absent any guides, some voters saw the record and put Yale or Penn or whoever it was on their big board.
All of which I've been reminded of lately as the radio and TV sports talkers bandy about hypothetical runs of the table for some teams -- notably Cincinnati, TCU and Boise State -- and, in many cases, bemoan the injustice of keeping them out of a championship game despite their unblemished won-loss record. The argument that an undefeated team should get some automatic bonus reward is just as absurd as voting an Ivy League team into the Top 25.
The truth is that as long as we don't have a playoff system or an objective way of comparing teams in far-flung conferences, we have to rely on subjective measures, like watching them play. If all we're examining is a team's record, we can have monkeys vote for the national champion, which is what we did in 1984, when a BYU squad that wasn't one of the 10 best teams in America was awarded the championship based on a zero in the loss column in a third-rate league and a signature win in the last quarter against a 6-6 Michigan contingent that finished sixth in the Big Ten.
Another truth is that your schedule matters. Playing as a championship contender in the SEC means that you're going to play four teams that can beat you even if you play well, and four more that can beat you if you don't. Going 10-1 in that crucible is mighty impressive. Playing as a national championship contender in the Big East this year means that there are only one or two games that you could lose without falling on your face.
It's not just that Florida or Alabama or Texas has more tough games than Cincinnati, it's the compounding effects those battles have. Cincinnati can rest a star player during the Syracuse game so he's at full speed against [insert whoever might be any good besides them in the Big East this year] the following week. (Try this argument on Boise State: they can rest regulars against Nevada, Louisiana Tech, Idaho, New Mexico State, Hawaii...indeed their entire league schedule in order to be fresh for the one game that will make or break their season. Plus, they can save their trick plays and surprise strategies for that one game.) Alabama can't rest anyone against Georgia and Tennessee in order to prepare for LSU. Boise State can hope for the breaks to go their way in their one tossup game against Oregon, but Texas can't expect to have luck on their side against Oklahoma, Texas Tech, Missouri and Kansas. They have to outplay most of those teams to go undefeated.
All that said, there's something to be learned by just watching teams play and observing that Cincinnati lacks Florida's team speed or size or tackling ability or whatever (probably all of these.) The reason you and I don't vote in the AP poll is that we're not experts; the voters are supposed to be. (Whether they are or not is another argument; I lack the expertise even to determine that.)
Besides, it's not as if Cincinnati slinks off back to chemistry class after earning the Big East crown. They would win a lovely BCS trip to Dallas or Tempe or Miami on New Year's week and an opportunity to show that, for one game at least, they belong.
As non-BCS schools, Boise State and TCU are different cases. Their first argument is for an invitation to a New Year's bowl game -- maybe against Cincinnati -- and that seems like a much more reasonable demand. We've seen repeatedly how an undermanned non-BCS team can turn a Bowl upside-down thrillingly and spill an elite 0pponent all over the grass.
Despite their impressive win over Oregon, Boise State has no case for the Championship Game this year even if they slay vaunted Idaho. Let's face it, if poll participants ranked teams based solely on how good they think the teams are, the Broncos wouldn't be in the Top 10, and maybe not in the Top 20. They would be a significant underdog on a neutral field against three-loss Oklahoma or two-loss Virginia Tech.
Now TCU, they're another story. First, the Mountain West is superior to the Big East this year, and the argument could be made versus the ACC as well. Certainly the Horned Frogs have significant challenges at BYU and at home against Utah, in addition to their modest win over Clemson. Should everyone else lose, they will get significant support for the title clash, and I'd be rooting for them. But I'd have a hard time justifying how 12-0 in the Mountain West is a greater accomplishment, or requires a better team, than 12-1 in the SEC or PAC 10. Slaying two dragons, two alligators and seven puppies is hardly the equal -- in my eyes -- of fighting off the Visigoths and sustaining one stab wound.
The bottom line is that if you want to play with the big boys, you're going to have to play the big boys as often as possible and be really impressive against the little ones. And I haven't seen too much of that.
b
Blecch!
The NBA and NHL have ruined their sports with meaningless seasons and endless playoffs that have no connection with each other. The NFL has struck the perfect balance, with a regular slate that culls all but the best teams and significantly disadvantages the stragglers among them in the post-season.
Now, if you were baseball, which road would you head down? It appears the game has chosen the road less thought out.
Last night's Yankees-Angels contest was a microcosm of the problem. Two teams that played nearly all of their 162 games in summer conditions met on a mid-October night in New York in conditions more suitable for the Packers. This abomination is made necessary by three rounds of playoffs that push the end of the World Series into November.
And then it got worse. When players are wearing earflaps, sweatshirts and neoprene hoods under their uniforms, that's a sign the game shouldn't be played. Last night, that wasn't even enough: freezing rain fell during innings eight through twelve.
Here's the bitter irony: such horrible conditions would have led to immediate postponement during a meaningless regular season tilt. But when it really counts, MLB lacks the flexibility to wait until another day. So the players and fans are subjected to discomfort, added potential for injury, and the dramatically increased likelihood that the game will be decided by something unrelated to skill, strategy and desire.
We saw this last year, when the Rays and Phillies played two hours of a world championship game in a freezing downpour. If MLB doesn't care about its most important games, it's no wonder that most fans are watching football.
As long as they are powerless to change the calender, MLB mucky-mucks should consider moving all playoff games to the daytime in cool climates. Better yet, reintroduce doubleheaders to shorten the season, eliminate the wild card and one playoff series, and wrap up the World Series by the Ides of October. Because the way things are going now, we're going to have a Rockies-Twins World Series that gets postponed by snow until the following May.
b
Now, if you were baseball, which road would you head down? It appears the game has chosen the road less thought out.
Last night's Yankees-Angels contest was a microcosm of the problem. Two teams that played nearly all of their 162 games in summer conditions met on a mid-October night in New York in conditions more suitable for the Packers. This abomination is made necessary by three rounds of playoffs that push the end of the World Series into November.
And then it got worse. When players are wearing earflaps, sweatshirts and neoprene hoods under their uniforms, that's a sign the game shouldn't be played. Last night, that wasn't even enough: freezing rain fell during innings eight through twelve.
Here's the bitter irony: such horrible conditions would have led to immediate postponement during a meaningless regular season tilt. But when it really counts, MLB lacks the flexibility to wait until another day. So the players and fans are subjected to discomfort, added potential for injury, and the dramatically increased likelihood that the game will be decided by something unrelated to skill, strategy and desire.
We saw this last year, when the Rays and Phillies played two hours of a world championship game in a freezing downpour. If MLB doesn't care about its most important games, it's no wonder that most fans are watching football.
As long as they are powerless to change the calender, MLB mucky-mucks should consider moving all playoff games to the daytime in cool climates. Better yet, reintroduce doubleheaders to shorten the season, eliminate the wild card and one playoff series, and wrap up the World Series by the Ides of October. Because the way things are going now, we're going to have a Rockies-Twins World Series that gets postponed by snow until the following May.
b
17 October 2009
When Is A Wild Pitch a Mild Pitch?
I don't usually comment on in-game events, but the umpire interpreted a rule in a way that I think cost the Angels a run, and possibly the game (they're in extra innings as I write), and I want the electrons arranged before tomorrow's write-ups.
Here's the deal: first and second for the Angels and AJ Burnett walks Torii Hunter. The ball caroms off Jose Molina's foot and into the stands. It's a wild pitch and -- it seems to me -- the runner on second scores. After all, as soon as the walk is recorded, that runner takes third. The WP sends him home. Likewise, the other two runners advance to second and third.
Instead, the umps ruled the ball dead and sent the runners back to their after-walk stations. HOw can that be? Does the extreme wildness of the pitch really erase its wild pitch properties? Doesn't this work the same way a wild throw would? Were the umpires making the mistake of thinking that since Erick Aybar hadn't yet reached third that the WP gave him that base? That would obviously be an error, since Aybar earned third by dint of the walk.
Surprisingly to me, neither the runners nor Mike Scioscia questioned the call. Maybe I've forgotten my rulebook, but common sense certainly dictates that everyone gets an extra base if the pitcher throws the ball into the stands.
Burnett uncorked another wildie one batter late, moving up all the runners as I described, but it should have brought in the second run and given the Halos the lead. It was a determinative call and should be addressed. Anyone got any ideas?
b
Here's the deal: first and second for the Angels and AJ Burnett walks Torii Hunter. The ball caroms off Jose Molina's foot and into the stands. It's a wild pitch and -- it seems to me -- the runner on second scores. After all, as soon as the walk is recorded, that runner takes third. The WP sends him home. Likewise, the other two runners advance to second and third.
Instead, the umps ruled the ball dead and sent the runners back to their after-walk stations. HOw can that be? Does the extreme wildness of the pitch really erase its wild pitch properties? Doesn't this work the same way a wild throw would? Were the umpires making the mistake of thinking that since Erick Aybar hadn't yet reached third that the WP gave him that base? That would obviously be an error, since Aybar earned third by dint of the walk.
Surprisingly to me, neither the runners nor Mike Scioscia questioned the call. Maybe I've forgotten my rulebook, but common sense certainly dictates that everyone gets an extra base if the pitcher throws the ball into the stands.
Burnett uncorked another wildie one batter late, moving up all the runners as I described, but it should have brought in the second run and given the Halos the lead. It was a determinative call and should be addressed. Anyone got any ideas?
b
Vlad the Impaled
Watching the playoffs, the saddest thing to see -- after the seeming inevitability of another purchased World Championship for the Yankees -- is the dramatic decline of Vladimir Guerrero. Hitless in his first two games and having whiffed in his previous at-bat on a pitch half a light-year from the strike zone, Guerrero was the last guy the Angels wanted at the plate with the bases juiced and two down in the seventh inning of a tie Game 2.
Guerrero is a lesson in the importance of plate discipline. For 12 years, Vlad the Impaler made mincemeat of Major League pitching by swinging at everything in the same zip code as home plate. From his first full season in 1998 to 2007, Guerrero's lowest OPS was .943 despite Stevie Wonder's batting eye.
There is only way to bat .300 with power while swinging at everything but the pick-off move: possess mad skills. Vlad was so endowed. However...
Starting last year, his 33rd on Planet Earth, Guerrero's skills began to erode. His OPS the last two seasons slumped to .886 and .794, and he's failed to hit 30 home runs each of the last three years. His value, as compared to a replacement-level player at his position dropped from a high of seven wins, accomplished several times, to about one-and-a-half win in 2009.
To be fair, Vlad missed a third of the season this year. On the other hand, he DH'd almost exclusively. Counter-intuitively, the replacement level hitter at DH is actually weaker than at right-fielder.
Guerrero's problem is that he can no longer compensate for his miserable plate discipline with an uncanny ability to hit everything. Pitchers know they can make bad pitches, and as long as they're not hugging the plate, they can get him out.
That's what was on display when he batted against a suspect Joba Chamberlain in Game 2. In 45-degree temperatures, Joba had come into the game one batter earlier and issued a free pass to the previous batter. But Guerrero swung at all four pitches he saw -- two of them balls -- and struck out, leaving three runners aboard.
The prognosis for Vladimir Guerrero in 2010 is pretty poor. Time waits for no one, and it doesn't appear that he's learned anything about how to hit. It's a shame too, becuse he was on a Hall of Fame trajectory had he only improved on the one glaring weakness in his game.
Plus, he could have helped beat the Yankees.
b
Guerrero is a lesson in the importance of plate discipline. For 12 years, Vlad the Impaler made mincemeat of Major League pitching by swinging at everything in the same zip code as home plate. From his first full season in 1998 to 2007, Guerrero's lowest OPS was .943 despite Stevie Wonder's batting eye.
There is only way to bat .300 with power while swinging at everything but the pick-off move: possess mad skills. Vlad was so endowed. However...
Starting last year, his 33rd on Planet Earth, Guerrero's skills began to erode. His OPS the last two seasons slumped to .886 and .794, and he's failed to hit 30 home runs each of the last three years. His value, as compared to a replacement-level player at his position dropped from a high of seven wins, accomplished several times, to about one-and-a-half win in 2009.
To be fair, Vlad missed a third of the season this year. On the other hand, he DH'd almost exclusively. Counter-intuitively, the replacement level hitter at DH is actually weaker than at right-fielder.
Guerrero's problem is that he can no longer compensate for his miserable plate discipline with an uncanny ability to hit everything. Pitchers know they can make bad pitches, and as long as they're not hugging the plate, they can get him out.
That's what was on display when he batted against a suspect Joba Chamberlain in Game 2. In 45-degree temperatures, Joba had come into the game one batter earlier and issued a free pass to the previous batter. But Guerrero swung at all four pitches he saw -- two of them balls -- and struck out, leaving three runners aboard.
The prognosis for Vladimir Guerrero in 2010 is pretty poor. Time waits for no one, and it doesn't appear that he's learned anything about how to hit. It's a shame too, becuse he was on a Hall of Fame trajectory had he only improved on the one glaring weakness in his game.
Plus, he could have helped beat the Yankees.
b
13 October 2009
Now THAT Is Baseball Analysis
For eight minutes and 19 seconds this afternoon, I listened to former Major Leaguer Eric Karros explain the baseball playoffs.
On how the Angels could beat the Yankees: "The Angels are not in awe of the Yankees. No one else can say that."
On why the Yankees might win it all: "The Yankees are more real this year. More relaxed. Expectations are the one thing that will slow them down. There's something to be said for that."
On how the Dodgers might overcome their weak finish to the season and make the World Series: "The Dodgers are like the infantry: they keep coming. Each guy plays like he's the 25th man. They're grinders, but they're superstars."
You see, it's this kind of insight that makes world class athletes the best analysts. They know more about the game than other people because they played it.
I'm not an athlete. That's why I have less informed ideas about these questions.
On how the Angels might beat the Yankees: Score more runs than NY. Win four games out of seven. Get good pitching and timely hitting. It'll help if the breaks go the Angels' way. They're more or less equally matched, so the biggest factor will be luck. No one can predict whom that will favor.
On why the Yankees might win it all: Well, they're the best team.
On how the Dodgers might beat the Phillies: Score more runs than Philadelphia. Win four games out of seven. Get good pitching and timely hitting. It'll help if the breaks go L.A.'s way. They're more or less equally matched, so the biggest factor will be luck. No one can predict whom that will favor. Oh, and throw lefties at that lineup. Howard and Utley are death on righthanders.
Look, these series are best-of-seven. Two hot pitchers can win it for you. One bad closer can lose it. The best team has an edge, but the best teams haven't even made the World Series in at least three years. So let's just sit back and enjoy the pennant races and leave the meaningless cliches for highly-compensated former athletes.
b
On how the Angels could beat the Yankees: "The Angels are not in awe of the Yankees. No one else can say that."
On why the Yankees might win it all: "The Yankees are more real this year. More relaxed. Expectations are the one thing that will slow them down. There's something to be said for that."
On how the Dodgers might overcome their weak finish to the season and make the World Series: "The Dodgers are like the infantry: they keep coming. Each guy plays like he's the 25th man. They're grinders, but they're superstars."
You see, it's this kind of insight that makes world class athletes the best analysts. They know more about the game than other people because they played it.
I'm not an athlete. That's why I have less informed ideas about these questions.
On how the Angels might beat the Yankees: Score more runs than NY. Win four games out of seven. Get good pitching and timely hitting. It'll help if the breaks go the Angels' way. They're more or less equally matched, so the biggest factor will be luck. No one can predict whom that will favor.
On why the Yankees might win it all: Well, they're the best team.
On how the Dodgers might beat the Phillies: Score more runs than Philadelphia. Win four games out of seven. Get good pitching and timely hitting. It'll help if the breaks go L.A.'s way. They're more or less equally matched, so the biggest factor will be luck. No one can predict whom that will favor. Oh, and throw lefties at that lineup. Howard and Utley are death on righthanders.
Look, these series are best-of-seven. Two hot pitchers can win it for you. One bad closer can lose it. The best team has an edge, but the best teams haven't even made the World Series in at least three years. So let's just sit back and enjoy the pennant races and leave the meaningless cliches for highly-compensated former athletes.
b
07 October 2009
The NL Cy Young
The yawning chasms that exist in the MVP races and the AL Cy Young are not present in the NL Cy race this year. A couple of quarks separate Tim Lincecum and Chris Carpenter in the inner Cy orbit, with Adam Wainwright, Matt Cain and Dan Haren in the outer ring.
You can crunch the digits 'til Niagara falls and still not see a red pubic hair of difference between the two. Lincecum pitched 33 more innings and struck out lots more batters. Carpenter surrendered fewer hits and walks per inning and posted an RA a half run superior. Lincecum pitches in a stingier stadium; Carpenter throws in front of a more deft defensive unit.
There's no question that Lincecum's total body of work is worth more than Carpenter's. Thirty-three frames of Cy-level hurling is a big bowl of ice cream. Even if Carpenter's season were a half slice of pizza superior to Lincecum's, it wouldn't close the gap.
The thing is, it wasn't. Even on a per-game basis, the ghost of Cy clings to the Giant. No doubt Carpenter was magnificent in '09, but it seems like there was an extra dollop of luck involved. Opponents batted an almost-impossible .272 on balls put into play against the Cardinals' comeback kid, and stranded an impressive 80% of runners. These numbers don't really compute and tend to be the result of pure kismet.
Carpenter's a better story, what with his two-year vanishing act, and he's close enough that I can't blame anyone for casting their ballot his way. But last year's best pitcher was this year's best pitcher, and don't bet against him being next year's best pitcher in the National League.
b
You can crunch the digits 'til Niagara falls and still not see a red pubic hair of difference between the two. Lincecum pitched 33 more innings and struck out lots more batters. Carpenter surrendered fewer hits and walks per inning and posted an RA a half run superior. Lincecum pitches in a stingier stadium; Carpenter throws in front of a more deft defensive unit.
There's no question that Lincecum's total body of work is worth more than Carpenter's. Thirty-three frames of Cy-level hurling is a big bowl of ice cream. Even if Carpenter's season were a half slice of pizza superior to Lincecum's, it wouldn't close the gap.
The thing is, it wasn't. Even on a per-game basis, the ghost of Cy clings to the Giant. No doubt Carpenter was magnificent in '09, but it seems like there was an extra dollop of luck involved. Opponents batted an almost-impossible .272 on balls put into play against the Cardinals' comeback kid, and stranded an impressive 80% of runners. These numbers don't really compute and tend to be the result of pure kismet.
Carpenter's a better story, what with his two-year vanishing act, and he's close enough that I can't blame anyone for casting their ballot his way. But last year's best pitcher was this year's best pitcher, and don't bet against him being next year's best pitcher in the National League.
b
04 October 2009
Snoozing Through Elimination
For the second year in a row, it's coming down to the last day of the season for the Twins...and no one outside of Minnesota and Michigan much cares.
Last year, the Twins and and White Sox needed a 163rd game to settle the AL Central, which the Sox captured in a thrilling 1-0 game, only to be obliterated by Tampa in the first round of the playoffs.
This year, it's the Twins and Tigers knotted after 161 games and possibly headed for seasonal overtime. This should be high drama, but even the one tight race is failing to capture our imagination. The reason is obvious: the victor simply earns the right to become Yankee cannon fodder.
The squad that prevails in this race will stand alone among playoff teams without 90 wins. Moreover, they will sport just the fifth best record in the American League, and arguably occupy just sixth place in team quality, behind Texas, Tampa and the contenders.
Just look at the pitching options facing Jim Leyland and Ron Gardenhire in the critical last days of the season. Gardenhire has sent to the mound Jeff Manship, a rookie with a 5.68 ERA, and Francisco Liriano, who is still recovering from TJ surgery and sporting a 5-13, 5.84 line. Leyland was forced to counter with the likes of rookie Alfredo Figaro, a rookie with 17 inings of experience and a 6.35 ERA, and Eddie Bonine, whose 61 lifetime innings and 4.81 ERA make him the star of the group. You think the Yankees are even scouting these two teams?
On the other hand, the rest of the playoffs could be a doozy. The Rockies won the right to avoid the Cardinals by virtue of their loss to the Dodgers last night. That leaves two first-round NL series -- LA-St. Louis and Colorado-Philly -- that are as wide open as Ozzie Guillen's mouth. The remaining AL series -- Boston-L.A. -- also promises fireworks. It's shaping up to be a fabulous post-season, which, as I've mentioned before, seems to vary inversely with the quality of the regular season.
The Yankees and, to a lesser degree, Cardinals have to be viewed as the favorites, particularly considering the special importance of the top three starters, the closer and experience in the postseason. As someone who finds nothing intriguing about one team dominating the sport by signing all the best free agents, I can think of much more compelling matchups, including any Phillies redux and a freeway series in LA. First though, we have to find out who survives that last elimination game.
b
Last year, the Twins and and White Sox needed a 163rd game to settle the AL Central, which the Sox captured in a thrilling 1-0 game, only to be obliterated by Tampa in the first round of the playoffs.
This year, it's the Twins and Tigers knotted after 161 games and possibly headed for seasonal overtime. This should be high drama, but even the one tight race is failing to capture our imagination. The reason is obvious: the victor simply earns the right to become Yankee cannon fodder.
The squad that prevails in this race will stand alone among playoff teams without 90 wins. Moreover, they will sport just the fifth best record in the American League, and arguably occupy just sixth place in team quality, behind Texas, Tampa and the contenders.
Just look at the pitching options facing Jim Leyland and Ron Gardenhire in the critical last days of the season. Gardenhire has sent to the mound Jeff Manship, a rookie with a 5.68 ERA, and Francisco Liriano, who is still recovering from TJ surgery and sporting a 5-13, 5.84 line. Leyland was forced to counter with the likes of rookie Alfredo Figaro, a rookie with 17 inings of experience and a 6.35 ERA, and Eddie Bonine, whose 61 lifetime innings and 4.81 ERA make him the star of the group. You think the Yankees are even scouting these two teams?
On the other hand, the rest of the playoffs could be a doozy. The Rockies won the right to avoid the Cardinals by virtue of their loss to the Dodgers last night. That leaves two first-round NL series -- LA-St. Louis and Colorado-Philly -- that are as wide open as Ozzie Guillen's mouth. The remaining AL series -- Boston-L.A. -- also promises fireworks. It's shaping up to be a fabulous post-season, which, as I've mentioned before, seems to vary inversely with the quality of the regular season.
The Yankees and, to a lesser degree, Cardinals have to be viewed as the favorites, particularly considering the special importance of the top three starters, the closer and experience in the postseason. As someone who finds nothing intriguing about one team dominating the sport by signing all the best free agents, I can think of much more compelling matchups, including any Phillies redux and a freeway series in LA. First though, we have to find out who survives that last elimination game.
b
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