25 December 2010

Braindrizzling In Review


Every year following the NFL draft, all the little Mel Kipers hurl plaudits and bric-a-brats at the various organizations for their picks. It always rankles me that they never review their own track record so we can determine whether their opinions are wheat or chaff. My guess is that they are no better at evaluating talent than the average GM. They're just as likely, I'd bet, to extol Ryan Leaf and whiff on Demarcus Ware as is the NFL braintrust.

Which reminds us that it's time for a Braindrizzling Year In Review, where we emancipate the year's statements from the archives and examine them in the light of hindsight. Although there are few actual predictions in this blog, there's plenty of gazing into crystal balls. Let's see.

YER OUT!
There were a couple of mis-interpretations over the course of 131 posts. The worst won't make the list. That would be the post in which I slammed the baseball writers for bestowing a Gold Glove on Derek Jeter. E-Scribe! The players and managers vote for that one. Mea culpa...and theirs too.

Our Better Angels -- In a series on interesting teams in 2010, I posited that the Angles would outplay the sabermetric forecasts of a sub-.500 season because of Mike Scioscia's magic touch and Arte Moreno's deep pockets. Wrong! I forgot to anticipate Kendry Morales's broken leg or the demise of the back end of the rotation. 80-82 is sub-.500, bub.

Boarding the D-train -- Dontrelle Willis tamed the walk tiger in his first start, prompting me to gush about his future. Bzzzzt! Now that it's his past, we see he has no more future in the Major Leagues. Willis made nine starts for Detroit in which he walked 29 and fanned 33 in 43 innings with a 4.98 ERA. After they kicked him to the curb, the desperate D-backs endured six starts of  a 6.85 ERA with a 14/27 K/BB ratio. I wish Dontrelle a lovely career as a baseball announcer.

All We Have To Fear Is... -- The Yankees themselves! I whined about the inevitability of a Yankees- Phillies World Series. Thhhppp! To be fair, I didn't really believe it so much as fear it. Nothing is inevitable in baseball playoffs, especially when AJ Burnett is starting.

STEEE-RIKE!
Some ideas are not quite either wrong or right. These were foul balls with two strikes.

Oye Como Va -- After three starts, Johan Santana looked to me like, well, the Johan Santana he'll never be again. Though his stats didn't reflect improvement, they were listing in the direction of one bad inning. I noted his 18 K in 18 innings and foresaw another Cy-worthy year. Hmm. He's no Roy Halladay, but unless your team plays near a Liberty Bell, you'd covet a guy who throws 199 innings at a 2.98 ERA, even in a pitcher's park. Santana was worth 5.6 wins against a replacement pitcher. That's still swell.

The Home of the Braves -- In another post on intriguing teams, I observed that Atlanta was a mile wide and an inch deep. With the breakout seasons of Jayson Heyward, Omar Infante and Martin Prado, the lineup turned out wider and deeper than I expected. The Nakahomas finished out of the tournament, as I'd anticipated, but at 91-71, better than I'd envisioned.

HITS
With all due disrespect, there were a lot of these. Behold.

Traded to His Family -- Twice I begged Ken Griffey, Jr. to retire lest he resemble Muhammad Ali fighting Larry Holmes. Did he listen? Well, yes, eventually. But not before slugging .184/.250/.204 in 108 painful at-bats and then falling asleep mid-game.

Hitting the Mark -- Mark Reynolds remains for me the most fascinating player in baseball. Reynolds' spectacular '09 was built on an unsustainable BABIP of .423. I mentioned that he's a great player if he bats .260, but that's a tall order for a guy who fans one-third of the time. Sure enough, despite smacking 32 homers and walking 83 times, he was worth just nine runs against replacement value to Arizona because of a .198 batting average.

Beat the Mets -- I said the Mets' stars and scrubs lineup would be a train wreck. Do I get a cookie?

Too Much of a Good Thing is...Wonderful -- New England fans were hankering for a trade as valuable assets Jason Varitek and Mike Lowell collected splinters. I noted that the rest of the infield was aging, fixing to get injured and in need of backup. I didn't realize the team would hit its medical deductible in the first month, but they surely had to appreciate having Tek and Lowell to fill in.

SIERA MIST -- Raise a glass to the seamheads at Baseball Prospectus, whose advanced pitching metrics noted that 90% of Ubaldo Jimenez's 13-1, 1.15 start was half luck. Unusually good strand rates, BABIP, relief help and run support all suggested that Jimenez was combining good -- not great -- pitching with extraordinary luck, a volatile cocktail. After brewing a 15-1, 2.20 first half, UJ spilled his drink in the second, and the result was 4-7, 3.80. His 19-8, 2.88 final line didn't attract a single Cy Young vote. I get the credit for reporting it, but they did all the work.

THE GIANTS WIN THE PENNANT! THE GIANTS WIN THE PENNANT!
There were two outright predictions here and they both paid off big. Literally.

I'm Going To Disney Land -- Last January, I told you to put money on the "under" in the Super Bowl. In fact, I told you to put money on the double-under. I told my bookie the same thing. My reasoning was the over/under of 57 required the game to be a track meet. But football analysts, savants though they are, have all the predictive ability of hurricane forecasters. With the double-under set at 49, the Saints downed the Colts 31-17. Cha-ching!

Oh, Votto Beautiful Morning -- Here is the entire March 26 post.

The winner of this year's Ben Zobrist Award for the best player who came out of nowhere will be Joey Votto. This is a trick selection. Just because you're not familiar with him doesn't mean the big-swinging, 27-year-old lefty isn't already an accomplished Major League hitter.

The Reds' first baseman, Votto has been pounding Major League pitching for two years and a coffee break. His .310/.388/.536 resume may be (Great American) Ballpark-aided, but 53 homers and 77 doubles in a thousand at-bats is hard to argue with.

Votto enters his third full season ready to explode. With a couple of full campaigns under his belt, with an increasing walk rate and with an improving team around him, the big Canadian is channeling Justin Morneau in the Queen City. His .414 OBP in an injury-trimmed season last year suggests a full year of Votto could catapult him into the MVP discussion in '10.

If that happens, you'll hear of him. And you'll wonder, where did this guy come from? Well, a pretty good place.


Oh, you heard of him all right. So did the MVP voters. Don't say I didn't warn you.

SO...
That's a pretty good batting average, even in a hitter's park, against a weak schedule, with a high BABIP and a low walk rate. I hope to score as well in '11.

I wish you a new decade of hanging curves with the bases juiced. Only two months until pitchers and catchers report.
b

20 December 2010

Woebegoing, Woebegoing, Woebegone


A trade this week between the woebegone Kansas City Royals and the woebegetting Milwaukee Brewers has baseball economics' fingerprints all over it. Both teams gave themselves a chance to get better, but only within the confines of an economic system that bequeaths MLB's two smallest markets limited opportunities.

First, some context. KC is the 29th largest metro area in the nation, just behind Orlando and San Antonio, with 2.07 million people. Milwaukee is 39th, with 1.56 million souls, fewer than the Nashville, Providence, Virginia Beach and Austin metro areas. The Milwaukee market fits neatly into the New York market 12 times with enough people left over to fill the city limits of Pittsburgh. That doesn't even account for the encroachment of the neighboring Chicago market that traditionally represented southern Wisconsin fans.

So when the biggest bopping Brewer, Prince Fielder, fixes his sights on one of those juicy nine-figure contracts, Milwaukee brass can't be faulted for considering its options and placing its chips on "win now, while he's still here."

There is no "win now" for the feckless Missouri franchise and there hasn't been any "win then" since 1989. The Royals have notched at least 90 losses in 10 of the last 14 years, interrupted in part by the moral victory of 1998's 72-89 mark. For GM Dayton Moore, the only possible route to relevance is rolling simultaneous sevens with his minor league prospects. Even with Zack Greinke as their ace, the Royals have won just 42.6% of their games the last three years, and his deal is up after next season. Combine that track record with a plastic, 40-year-old home park built five miles into the woods and it's a wonder anyone pays to see their games.

That's why we might want to refrain from slapping our heads when the Royals announce they've filled their outfield gaps with Jeff Francoeur, Melky Cabrera and 162 bottles of aspirin. While the Red Sox are offering Saturday's Mega Lotto Jackpot for Carol Crawford and Adrian Gonzalez, Kansas City has just $3.75 million to spend, and a pair of .715 OPS outfielders is all that buys.

Which brings us to the confluence of the Win Now and Roll the Dice rivers. The Brewers considered their team-killing pitching and the closing-window of low-cost performance from offensive stars Fielder, Ryan Braun, Corey Hart and Rickie Weeks and decided to chuck the farm system for two shots at a flag. In the NL Central, where the Cards have run out of money after paying Pujols and Holliday; where the Cubs are busy climbing out of a scillion-dollar bad-contract hole; and where the Reds -- the Reds! -- wore the 2010 crown; it's a reasonable gamble.

The Royals, meanwhile, realize that they can come in last without their Cy Young hurler as well as with him, so why not flip him to further stock the farm. Hence, KC's decision to flip Greinke and incumbent shortstop Yuniesky Betancourt for four touted young guys. The deal is one of two recent Milwaukee blockbusters yielding Shaun Marcum and Zack Grienke to join Yovanni Gallardo and Randy Wolf in the suddenly formidable Brewer rotation. 

It's a low percentage move for Kansas City, but the percentage was zero before the trade. Likewise, there'll be hell to pay for the Brewers in 2013, assuming Fielder bolts after this season and Greinke's bill comes due without any farm-grown beef to feed the big club. In the meantime, the NL Central is there for the taking and the Beer Kings are making their claim.  

Maybe it's small ball compared to the giant stakes among the Phils, Saux, Yanks and their ilk, but it's life for the mice of baseball who must scamper as best they can among the elephants.
b

14 December 2010

A Very Tasty Ruben


I live in a small city 750 miles from my big city upbringing. I work in non-profit and earn hundreds of thousands less per year than my college classmates. So I'm feeling Cliff Lee right now. He made a lifestyle choice, opting for quality over quantity. He chose happiness over money. 

The real question raised by Lee's return to the sibling-loving city is this: "Is Ruben Amaro, Jr. the best GM in baseball?"

The five-year pact with Lee is a coup in itself, but it's the American Revolution in context. Amaro correctly deduces that the mountaintop is within reach, but the weather will turn foul after two or three tries. The manufacturer's warranty on Utley's contract, Howard's reflexes, Rollins' health, and Oswalt's fastball all run out eventually, so Amaro is bulking up for the assault today. If he has to cast a few drachma to the wind in years four and five, it's a small price to pay for sticking his flag at the precipice.

Amaro is a Philly native, a Major League scion and eight-year veteran himself and a 1987 Stanford graduate. He was a respected assistant GM under newly-minted Hall of Famer Pat Gillick, taking over immediately following their 2008 World Series championship. Building a champion is one thing; Amaro is constructing the modern version of a dynasty.

Because Dominic Brown is no Jayson Werth, at least not right now, and Carlos Ruiz is no Carlos Ruiz (his '10 BA was 41 points higher than his previous career high), the Phillies' offense may hiccup a bit in 2011, absent another deal. But what's the difference whether they win 8-1 or 3-1? With Halladay, Lee, Hamels and Oswalt, middle relievers need not apply. Baseball Think Factory estimates that this is the second greatest foursome entering the season of all time, after the '76 Mets of Seaver, Matlack, Koosman and Mickey Lolich. (Let that serve as a cautionary tale, Phanatics.)

(The great Jayson Stark has a comprehensive review  of this pitching staff's place in history.)

There are now many GMs in baseball who can discern the real value of players and pass on overwrought demands, which Amaro did with Werth. What sets him apart is his ability to understand when to spend too much. Getting Halladay and Lee below market price has enabled him to secure Howard's services a bit richly, swap out for Oswalt and add salary while the turnstyles are clicking. It won't always be that way, but it'll be a great run while it lasts.
b

12 December 2010

A Fire Hose That Melts In High Heat


Did they really build a stadium in Minneapolis whose roof can't withstand 15 inches of snow? 

Isn't that like building levees around New Orleans that will break in a strong hurricane?

The I-95 Balance of Power


Assuming Cliff Lee chooses lucre over loyalty -- and why else hire Scott Boras and drag on negotiations for a month? -- he'll bring seven years of his other-worldly command to the Big Apple, not the Big D. 

Except the sabermetric websites are burning up the ether about the likelihood that Lee's control falls off the Cliff before the pinstripes stop paying him $25 million annually, perhaps long before. K/BB ratios of 10/1, which Lee delivered in 2010, have notoriously short half-lives. Indeed, just three years ago, Lee fanned fewer than two batters for each free pass he issued, leading to a 6.29 ERA and a 5-8 record for Cleveland. Perhaps more than any other pitcher, Lee's ability to retire batters is dependent on his ability to paint the corners on demand.

Knowing that he might deliver four champion-grade seasons before returning to earth for the last $75 million of his contract might perfectly satisfy the brass in the Bronx, where the revenue streams run richer with gold each year. In Arlington, though, that's $75-million the club won't have to spend on, say, an entire infield, including the catcher. That kind of weight can sink a franchise burdened with spending limits, such as, well, everyone but the Yankees.

So assuming Lee leaves Texas and heads north, and considering the other significant off-season moves so far, a familiar phenomenon is shaping up. Other than Chicago, where the White Sox muscled up with Adam Dunn, the flow of talent has almost exclusively migrated northeast. The Yankees shored up their single largest weakness by acquiring Lee, the Red Sox added Carl Crawford and Adrian Gonzalez to the returns of Dustin Pedroia and Mike Cameron, and the rest of baseball serves, to some degree or another, as their minor leagues. We can only guess which new superstar -- Josh Hamilton, Joey Votto, Felix Hernandez -- is simply auditioning for the big spenders.

Looking ahead to 2011, fans in San Diego, Texas, San Francisco, and Minnesota might want to temper their expectations. The Padres dealt away 78% of their team VORP (value over replacement player; i.e., how much players are worth on offense compared to AAA replacements at their positions. This is another way of saying that San Diego almost made the playoffs in 2010 with a lineup of Adrian Gonzalez and the Brady Bunch kids. In 2011, it looks like Florence Henderson will be suiting up too.)

The Evil Empire will have sucked the life-giving force from the Rangers, whose center-fielder will have to play in '11 without the magic pixie dust that transformed him into an MVP in '10. The Twins get back Justin Morneau, which seems to be the kiss of death for them, and the Giants have already won their once-every-56-years flag.

And, of course, there's St. Petersburg. The imbalance of power has swung even more forcefully to the AL Beasts in NY and Boston and it's hitting the Rays squarely in the butt. The Rise and Fall of the Tampa Bay Empire will cover three years. Without any blockbuster free agent pickups left for bidding we have a pretty good sense how things are shaping up.

Plus, the Yankees now have the sexiest mascot in the majors.
b

09 December 2010

Yo, Adrian!


Ron from Boston asks,
Why do the Sox think that they are  better off w/Gonzalez then Beltre?  Gonzalez may be better (and maybe, in Fenway, even better than we've already seen), but based on last year they bring quite comparable offensive and defensive skills to the team.  (You dismiss Beltre's 2010 as a walk-year anomaly, but it's not really inconsistent with the ups and downs he's had throughout his career.) 

And the cost of the upgrade to Gonzalez is 3 highly rated prospects and probably about $10 million/yr. in payroll, assets that could be used to improve the team in other ways.  I don't see that the upgrade is worth the cost.

Here's why Theo and I prefer Adrian over Adrian. Guess what the following is:

91-97-98-163-93-105-112-108-103-141

Those are Adrian Beltre's OPS+ for the last 10 years. (OPS+ is a player's on-base + slugging compared to league average, on a scale of 100. An OPS of 91 is 9% below average.) Pretty inconsistent, and unimpressive other than two years, right?

Wait, I pulled the hidden ball trick. Let's finish the list:

91-97-98-163 (walk year)-93-105-112-108-103-141 (walk year). Would you buy that stock at 141?

With Beltre, you pay Adrian Gonzalez money and get Alex Gonzalez until Christmas Eve, and the prospect of Santa's arrival.

This year's version of Omar Minaya (whoever that is) will pay 141 OPS+ money for Adrian Beltre over five years and get four years of 103 OPS+. Meanwhile, the Saux shuffle that cash to a more productive Adrian.

With the signing of Carl Crawford, Boston now has a solid infield anchored by A-Gone and Youk, and an outfield that reads more like an Olympic 4x100 relay team -- Crawford, Cameron and Ellsbury. (JD Drew, who stole 49 of 65 bases his first three years, is the slowpoke here.) Good luck to any batted ball intending to land in that outfield.

These two deals also eliminate any uncertainty about Cliff Lee's whereabouts in April. The Yankees now must empty the vault for the only remaining significant upgrade available. Finishing second in that contest will lead to the same result in the standings.
b

06 December 2010

Swinging Bunts


Been quite a hot stove already and they haven't even lit the pilot light at the Winter Meetings. The Nats watched Adam Dunn depart and signed Jayson Werth for too much for too long to hit much less than Dunn. On the other hand, he can run and catch, two skills missing from the Dunn collection.

After Kenny Williams inked Dunn for the Sox, he started after incumbent first baseman Paul Konerko. That would push Dunn to his natural defensive position -- DH -- and give Chicago some mid-lineup oomph. Next, they'll need some relief pitching with the departures of Bobby Jenks and Scott Linebrink.

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Jed Hoyer appears to be continuing his apprenticeship to Theo Epstein, despite his new employment as Padres GM. Epstein schooled him out of Adrian Gonzalez for a trio of minor league maybes. Boston can move Kevin Youklis to third and let Adrian Beltre convert his walk-year revival into someone else's over-payment. It's an offensive coup and a defensive wash. A-Gone makes the difficult transition to the tougher league, but leaves Petco pitcher-heaven for the Fens. In the unlikely event Gonzalez leaves town after a year, the Sox get two sandwich picks (between the first and second rounds) to replace the stash they sent San Diego.

As for the Friars, that bottled lightning of '10 won't strike again in '11. They managed not to get back a single majors-ready player for the best hitter they've had in a decade. Find them at the bottom of the NL West playing to near-empty stadiums next year.

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Shaun Marcum is 37-25, 3.85 in the brutal AL Beast with all the chocolaty wholesome goodness that accompanies that pedigree. Plus he's 28 and earns less than a million dollars. So naturally, Toronto jettisoned Marcum for ... a minor leaguer. Man, that had better be some fantastical minor leaguage. (Word is that 2B Brett Lawrie was the Brews' top prospect, and a can't-miss edition at that.)

Actually, it's more sensible than it sounds. Toronto has more good arms than the Israeli military and a black hole where its lineup should be. Milwaukee has Rickie Weeks clogging up the keystone for the foreseeable decade and could always use a reliable #2 starter to bulk up an already above-average staff. The Blue Jays get chocolate in their peanut butter; the Brews get peanut butter in their chocolate.

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Now we know where Mark Reynolds' career will go to die: Baltimore. The O's sent a pair of journeymen relief arms to Arizona for the all-or-nothing cornerman. This is the D-Backs telling Reynolds they just want to be friends. Relief pitchers are easier to find than Waldo in a snowstorm.

Reynolds comes off a year in which he achieved notoriety as the best .198 hitter in history. He smacked 32 homers, walked 83 times and scooped up everything but the infield dirt at the hot corner. Baltimore snags him at a big discount. The question is, what can they do even with him?

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Cliff Lee and Carl Crawford are the big prizes, but the most interesting signing will involve a masochist GM who despises his manager. I wouldn't sign Manny Ramirez and the film rights to his life story for two wooden nickels, but someone's going to commit the GDP of Haiti to him. ($992,657) He can't play the field or stay out of trouble, but someone's going to take a chance that he can still hit. (Answer: with his eyes closed...if he can be bothered to.)

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Baseball's Hall of Shame now includes Pat Gillick; Jesse Haines, a slightly above-average 20s-30s hurler; Johnny Evers, whose .270/.356/.334 lifetime achievement is offset by his unequaled ability to be named in a catchy poem; Phil Rizzuto's mouth; journeyman 19th century outfielder Tommy McCarthy who was worth 19 wins in 13 years over a replacement-level player; and Bowie Kuhn, who was so feckless he couldn't get elected into the Bowie Kuhn Hall of Fame.

The Hall of Shame does not include: all-time great Shoeless Joe Jackson, all-time hits leader Pete Rose; Marvin Miller, who whipped Bowie Kuhn like a rented mule uninterrupted for two decades; and home run savant Mark McGwire. It appears likely that the Hall will also fail to include Barry Bonds, the greatest player of his generation; and Roger Clemens, the greatest pitcher of several generations.

So remind me, what exactly is the purpose of this institution?
b

04 December 2010

A Sad Day In Chicagoland


We lost one of the greats when Ron Santo died from bladder cancer Thursday at the tender age of 70. Santo might just be the best player ever to be considered and passed over for the Hall of Fame.

Santo's numbers are not startling and his teams unimpressive. His .277 average and 342 home runs in 15 seasons with the Cubs don't scream all-time great unless we listen to the echoes. His 1108 walks and 365 doubles helped him post a proud.362/.464 line that translates even 50 points higher when considering that the effective portion of his career -- 1961-72 -- was baseball's modern deadball era. Every year from 1963-1969, Ron Santo hit at least 25% better than average. Add to that his slick fielding at the hot corner and you have a truly great player.

Even more impressive, Santo never let on that he suffered from diabetes from the time he was 18, an often fatal disease 40 years ago. His doctor told the family that he could expect to live to 25. He famously smacked a grand slam once while suffering mid-game hypo-glycemia that was causing him to see triple. 

For this he was awarded 43% of the Hall of Fame vote. At his peak. In his final year of eligibility. 

Ron Santo never came close to an MVP award -- finishing fourth in 1967 -- because he was one of three great batsmen on decidedly mediocre squads. The Northsiders finished 7th-8th-8th-10th-3rd-3rd-2nd (the last three in division play) during his prime and never won a division or pennant -- much less a World Series -- during his career. Had Americans seen Santo play for two weeks straight in the post-season, they would have better appreciated his skills.

Which, ironically, is what many Cubs fans do with respect to Santo the announcer. Following his playing days, Santo spent 20 years pronouncing his love for the team over the airwaves. Beloved for his overt fandom, Ron Santo was below the Mendoza Line (the Rizzuto Line?) when it came to his radio play. He is very likely the single worst announcer of this millenium, and among the silliest and most grating I've ever heard. His admirers credit him with being "one of us in the booth." That is exactly the point. If I wanted to hear the irrational, biased frothing of the average cretin I'd sit in the bleachers with them and forget to drink. 

I don't know which would be sadder, for Ron Santo to be voted access to the Hall by the Veterans Committee now that he can't enjoy it or for Ron Santo to be voted access to the announcer's wing of the Hall despite his utter lack of contributions in that arena. In any case, he belongs in the former and not in the latter, irrespective of his existential status.
b

24 November 2010

Take the Money and Run


Hal: Hey Derek, how much you want to break some records for me the next coupla years?

Derek: I dunno, a hundred fifteen for five years.

Hal: Ha! I've already made you rich beyond what you deserve. Get real.

Derek: Okay, then a hundred for four years.

Hal: Are you kidding me? You're out of gas at 37 and you want me to pay you at 41?


Hal: Your glove can't handle short and your bat doesn't play anywhere else but second. And Cano way we're moving you there. I'll give you 45 for three, but only because of our special bond.

Derek: That will not do. I am the Yankee captain. Everyone loves me. I will attain my 3,000th hit.

Hal: Fine, go play the field. See how much Pinstripe Pride is worth in Houston. Enjoy that legendary Mariner tradition.  I hear summer in Dallas is nice. You'll love hiding in the power-packed Padre lineup. After the Diamondbacks offer you 15 for two years in left field, come on back. The offer will remain on the table.

Waldo: Psst, Derek. Sign the deal. Make a budget. Cement your legacy. Pretend you're going out on your terms. Die a Yankee.
b

22 November 2010

Hall of Mirrors


I see the reconstituted and renamed Veterans Committee has another opportunity to vote Marvin Miller into Cooperstown. I've already scored a TKO on this particular horse and will go to my corner after a few short words.

A Baseball Hall of Fame without Marvin Miller is like a Civil War Hall of Fame without Robert E. Lee. A Baseball Hall of Fame that includes Bowie Kuhn and not Miller is like a Basketball Hall of Fame that shuns the Harlem Globetrotters while admitting the Washington Generals.

Whether you were on his side or not, Miller is one of the five most influential people in the history of the game. (Who else? The Babe, Branch Rickey, Jackie Robinson. That's the list.)

Baseball's failure to vote Miller into the Hall is no reflection on the man who transformed the business of the sport and was perhaps the greatest union leader ever. It is instead a referendum on the judgment, indeed the sanity, of those casting the ballots. 

Choose carefully, gentlemen.

19 November 2010

Quick Hits


The revolution was televised. As recently as five years ago, the baseball writers could no more have found their way to bestow the Cy Young on a .500 pitcher than to explain the general theory of relativity. Not only did they correctly identify Felix Hernandez as the best pitcher in the AL this year, but they did so by a country mile over a perfectly plausible second-best candidate.

David Price went 16-9, 2.72 with 28 quality starts in 31 tries. He was money down the stretch, going 4-0 1.67, propelling the Rays ahead of the Yankees to the #1 seed in the playoffs. For the win-obsessed, CC Sabathia went 21-7. But the writers eschewed Sabathia completely and gave King Felix three-quarters of their votes.

Perhaps David Price's best pitch was in Hernandez's behalf. "I feel like they got it right,'' he said on a conference call. "I feel Felix deserved it. He didn't have the wins, but that's the part you have the least control over.''  That's impressive insight from an athlete.

Roy Halladay, clearly the best pitcher in the NL and probably in baseball, is more typical of jockdom. " I think, ultimately, you look at how guys are able to win games. Sometimes the run support isn’t there, but you sometimes just find ways to win games. I think the guys that [sic] are winning and helping their teams deserve a strong look, regardless of how good Felix’s numbers are.” 

It's the job of the people who study the game to exercise a deeper understanding of it than those whose job is to play it. For the second year in a row, the baseball writers have demonstrated this ability.
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Met fans, rejoice, and stop worrying about who your manager is going to be. Frankly, it doesn't much matter as long as he gets along with the players.

Sandy Alderson as GM and Paul DePodesta as AGM are anti-Minayas. They will give the team positive mass, energy and momentum. Alderson schooled Billy Beane in Oakland before moving to an inner orbit in MLB's executive suites. Described by some as "old school" because he's 63, Alderson will bring new ideas to Queens.

Evidence of that was his first hire, DePo, whom the Dodgers would regret firing as GM a few years back if they had enough sense to avoid messy divorces. The new management team's first order of business, after deciding who'll implement their plan on the field, will be to surround Wright and Reyes with some sustainable talent and shed the Bay-like contracts that darken the Mets' future.

They'll need a couple of years to clean the stables at Citi, but once they do, they'll get a squad of thoroughbreds back on the field and give orange and blue fans something to believe in again.

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Speaking of field generals, I see that the voters have tabbed their managers of the year for 2010. Were Ron Gardenhire and Bud Black the best managers in baseball this year? I don't know. But I do know this: not a single one of the writers who voted for this award knows either.

Admit it, BBWAA, there is no manager of the year award. Gardenhire and Black were voted managers of the teams that most outperformed expectation. Whether the manager has any, much less significant impact on that result is dubious at best.

The unacknowledged truth is that managers are measured by results for which there is little evidence that they affect. The strategic, in-game decision-making is so proscribed and rote that any reasonably knowledgeable baseball fan could handle the duties. Team leadership is another story, but most of that goes on behind closed doors, out of the view of you, me and baseball journalists.

If we were really identifying the "best" manager, wouldn't it stand to reason that the same people would win repeatedly? Or is managing really such a fleeting skill that this year's hero is next year's goat? Only one manager has repeated in either league since the award was established 27 years ago -- Bobby Cox in '04-'05 -- and that was because the '04 team was gutted and expectations for the '05 Braves were lower than a pregnant ant's belly.

Each year I vote for MVP, Cy Young and ROY in the Internet Baseball Awards, but I never bother to cast a ballot for manager of the year. Where I can gather facts and analyze them appropriately, I can cast an informed vote. I don't feel comfortable pulling the lever without being informed. Evidently, this is not a deterrent for a lot of people.
b

12 November 2010

Mr. "Knows His Ultimate Zone Rating From His FRAR"


Amid the muck and slime emerged the first primitive beings, crawling out of the mire, basking in the life-giving rays, slowly evolving and adapting, toddling, knuckle-scraping, walking upright and finally reclining with a good book.

The ascent of Man? Sure, but also the ascent of modern baseball analysis. Although the state of baseball journalism remains fairly dismal, there are nonetheless heroes in the midst. A paean to those luminaries who have the guts to leap upstream is long overdue.

Here's to you, Mr. Understands the Value of On-Base Percentage and Isn't Intimidated By VORP.
Best Sportswriter -- Joe Posnanski, Kansas City Star, Sports Illustrated. Joe Poz was one of the first to recognize that Bill James had proposed baseball's relativity theory and that it would revolutionize the game. Joe writes with humor, warmth and a level of comprehension of baseball's inner life rarely found elsewhere. 

Here's Joe Poz on Joe Morgan: "...he became a symbol of the closed-minded ballplayer-turned-announcer who believed in the power of heart, the magic of grit, and that to win you need winners, and that to become a winner you need to learn how to win, and that to learn how to win you need to win, and that to win you need winners." 

You can read more of Joe's work here and here .

Best Sports Broadcaster -- Brian Kenny, ESPN. Here's what blows my mind about Brian Kenny. The guy is sharp as a laser. His interviews crackle and he pummels conventional wisdom with iron insights and joie de vive. His sons both attend Berkeley. And yet he did his higher learning at St. John's, which is a just four years of Yourtown Community College. BK mixes stat-comfort with a keen mind for the human side of sports.

Kenny also has the most cerebral guests, most notably Greg Easterbrook, author of Tuesday Morning QB, and an email-reading segment called Kenny's Log-Ins. His week-nightly radio show makes my nipples rise. Catch excerpts here.

Best Play-By-Play Broadcaster -- Jon Sciambi, ESPN. With apologies to Charlie Steiner, Gary Cohen, Dan Shulman and their Gentile counterparts, Sciambi stands out among the standouts. Like the above-mentioned , you'll never catch Boog mumbling some conventional tripe about momentum or clubhouse chemistry. Moreover, he actually works the new analysis into his broadcasts and explains to his listeners how and why it matters in a way that increases their understanding without dropping a load of statistics on them. Here's the test of a great PBP announcer: enjoyment of the broadcast is inversely proportional to the competitiveness of the game.

Best Color Commentator -- Dave Campbell, ESPN Radio. The guy with the lamest nickname (Soup) is absolutely terrific on those Sunday night broadcasts. You can really hear his exquisite talent come through when he covers the same two teams Sunday night that Fox covered on TV the previous afternoon. Twice the insight without the cliches and provably false shibboleths.

Best Sabermetrician/Writer -- Joe Sheehan, JoeSheehan.com and Sports Illustrated. Sheehan gets the nod over Keith Law and Rob Neyer primarily because you can find them without my help on the Worldwide Leader. Joe's the most provocative of the three, which is to say that he doesn't mind being an idiot in the service of an idea. He's also more of a writer than Neyer or Law, who have number-crunching chops that he lacks. Sheehan studies the nooks and examines the crannies of the game and brings mind-expanding analysis to it. Look, read them all and learn about the game.

It's not a desert out there. While there's still too much wind blowing through baseball journalism's ears, there are heads popping through the sand with neurons firing. I hope and expect that we'll be able to continue adding to this list in coming years.
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The Biggest Idiot of All


Today we take on the single most ignorant member of the baseball media, a person who doesn't seem to know the difference between the MVP and the Gold Glove and who is so singularly focused on the shortcomings of other scribes and gabbers that he lashes out at them willy-nilly.

That would be your humble reporter.

Two posts ago Braindrizzling lambasted the mainstream baseball media for crapping the bed on the AL shortstop Gold Glove vote. Sportswriters and broadcasters certainly play a daily Super Bowl of Stupidity and Willful Ignorance, but they cannot be blamed for the Gold Glove stinkbug.

It's the managers and players who vote for the Gold Glove. D'Oh! No wonder the vote is so lame-brained. If you don't believe that ballplayers generally know less about the game than educated fans, consider the analytic portfolio of John Kruk. And then consider that he beat out less knowledgeable former ballers. There's nothing about the ability to hit a speed ball or snap off Uncle Charlie that equips one to assess the nuances of the game, its performers or its strategies.

Fine, you say, but don't try to change the subject. This blog laid a Sabathia-sized egg on that post and deserves to be excoriated for it. So go ahead, excoriate. 

Baseball writers and broadcasters did not kidnap the Lindbergh baby, cause global warming, kill off the dinosaurs or create Snooki. People who cast stones should make sure their houses aren't made of glass.

Duly noted. You deserve better.
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11 November 2010

Jumbo Shrimp


I walked by a TV today that drooled out gossip about a pair of 19-year-old singers or actors or maybe they're just garden variety drug addicts. Anyway, on the screen popped some adult voyeur with his analysis of the couple's dating or fighting or public intercourse or whatever, and beneath his face the super identified him as a Celebrity Journalist.

Celebrity Journalist! Ha! 

I guess that's the infotainment version of "Gold Glove-winner Derek Jeter."

10 November 2010

An Election Than Shwe Could Love


[Note: this post has been edited to remove the idiotic assertion that the vote was the fault of baseball writers. Of course, the Gold Glove is voted on by players and managers.]

I see that the players and managers have voted Derek Jeter the best fielding shortstop in the American League this year. I see that Myanmar also had elections this week.

This is a perfectly reasonably Gold Glove choice. On Planet Baseball Insider.

The metrics agree that Jeter's defense was offensive. Ultimate Zone Rating (UZR) places Jeter's glovework third worst among the 15 shortstops who played 500+ innings this season. The Plus-Minus system has Jeter's defense second worst among starting shortstops.

The rest of the planet appears to be on board. Jeter didn't receive a single Top Ten vote from anyone at the Fielding Bible for shortstop defense this year. (That's across both leagues.) Finding someone without a major league uniform who believes Derek Jeter is even a legitimate shortstop anymore is harder than finding Aung San Suu Kyii on the Burmese ballot

But the good men and women of the game have their reasons, probably similar to those that led to bestowing the 2008 Gold Glove for first base upon a DH (Rafael Palmiero). After all, Jeter made the fewest errors at short in the AL this year. Of course, King Tut made even fewer errors, and for the same reason: you can't bobble what you can't get to.

The vote speaks far more eloquently about the ability -- and probably the interest -- of players and managers to decide these sorts of things than about Derek Jeter's defense. The truth is there has never been any correlation between the ability to smack a ball and the ability to tease out the complex nuances of the game.
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08 November 2010

The Worst Best of All Time


Baseball has attempted to play both ends against the middle by dividing into three divisions and adding a wild card. It's a compromise between the everyone-gets-a-trophy insanity of the NBA and NHL and the soul-crushing of baseball's early days when just the top two teams vied for the title.

Here's the cost: the chart below, courtesy of Baseball Prospectus, attempts to document the worst World Series winners of all time. The last and most relevant column is the team's projected winning percentage given its run-scoring/preventing profile and its strength of schedule. 

It's no surprise that the '06 Cards are first worst. They played sub-.500 ball in the second half and triumphed against the foundering Tigers in the Keystone Cops World Series. Blecch.

Dig deeper and you'll notice something: Of the 15 weakest champs, 12 hail from the Wild Card era. Five of the 11 titleholders since the turn of the millennium "earned" a spot.


Rank
Year
Team
W-L
1
2006
Cardinals
83-78
.497
2
1987
Twins
85-77
.497
3
1959
Dodgers
88-68
.533
4
2000
Yankees
87-74
.534
5
1985
Royals
91-71
.539
6
2003
Marlins
91-71
.545
7
1964
Cardinals
93-69
.548
8
1997
Marlins
92-70
.552
9
1996
Yankees
92-70
.552
10
1945
Tigers
88-65
.554
11
2008
Phillies
92-70
.555
12
1982
Cardinals
92-70
.556
13
2010
Giants
92-70
.558
14
1980
Phillies
91-71
.559
15
2005
White Sox
99-63
.561

Because short series are rolls of the dice, more weak teams are matching up for the Fall Classic. Moreover, because the playoffs are now weeks long, the winners are determined by a sprint after running a 162-game marathon. The best long-distance runner is often not the best dasher.

Expect more of this in the future, especially as the AL Beast continues to bulk up at the expense of other divisions, allowing mediocre division winners to ride a couple of hot starters to pay dirt. It's a Faustian bargain that's given more cities a rooting interest in the post-season but a less compelling championship series.
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02 November 2010

They Might Be Giants


And so, they're the Giants of baseball, the first San Francisco treat since the franchise moved in 1958. The Giants won the World Series because they played five great games. Their pitching was masterful, allowing five runs in the last four games; their defense sublime and their hitting sufficient.

The only shame was that the dogpile occurred in Dallas rather than in the Bay area. After about the first 23 seconds it looked as if the players didn't know whom to hug.

As Joe Buck aptly pointed out, this squad had accomplished what Barry and Bobby Bonds, Jeff Kent, Juan Marichal, Rob Nenn, Will Clark and other great Giant players had failed to. But looking into that quivering mass of celebrating humanity, I had to wonder about some of the participants.

Does Pat Burrell return home with any sense of accomplishment? The guy was a wind farm in the Series, fanning in 11 of 13 times at bat. Burrell saved his career in a couple of hundred swings with San Fran, but may have jeopardized all that with his World Series futility. Now a free agent, Burrell cost the Giants four runs in just four games (not including his Game 4 benching).

How about Mike Fontenot, is he celebrating his great achievement? A solid middle-infielder with the woebegone Cubs, Fontenot came to the Giants and promptly sat on the bench. He didn't see a single pitch in the World Series. What can he tell his homeys in Slidell -- "I'm a world champ"?

Or Barry Zito? The free agent bust-o-rama was left off the post-season roster but will still get a ring along with his millions. Will he wear it with pride? Will he include a World Series title on his post-playing curriculum vitae? He'd better decide, because that time is nigh.

I feel good about the Giants' championship, even though they weren't the best team in baseball. It's a nice prize for the city, which hasn't had much to cheer about in sports for a while. Though the series wasn't particularly exciting or memorable, it was very well-played and leads us to another exciting hot stove season.

Hey, don't put away the mitt!
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31 October 2010

World Series Musings


Strike Three
We've become accustomed to the strike-zone illustrations demonstrating where each pitch is, but there's one small group of people that will never see this useful tool -- the umpires! The baseball world has gone mad.

Baseball literally has the technology to replace the home plate umpire with perfection. Instead, it chooses the reverse. Umpires not only are imperfect in their calculation of the strike zone, they seem to be free to interpret it any way they like. Any of the variations on the not-uncommon theme that an umpire "has a high strike zone" or is "giving the pitcher the outside corner" is absurd and now illustrated vividly pitch by pitch on your large-screen, high definition TV.

The strike zone is baseball's manifestation of our political culture, where truth is subordinate to volume. I think baseball ought to be focused on ball-and-strike truth, not an arbiter's opinion, particularly when the arbiter seems to be free to devise his own rules as they game progresses.

Juan For the Road
He's bounced through three organizations in 10 years staffing three infield positions and producing a lackluster.256/.300/.431 lifetime line. He's built like a refrigerator and doesn't look like he could steal a base off an Eephus pitch. But the more you watch Juan Uribe, the more impressed you have to be.

Despite his girth, Uribe is a twinkled-toed third baseman who moves to his left as well as anyone. A one-man ERA-deflator, he's saved the Giants several runs on defense this post-season. When he's filling in at short or second, as he did when Mark DeRosa was healthy and Edgar Renteria wasn't, his 24-home-run power is an asset, despite his on-base deficiencies.

I won't deface this post by alluding to Uribe's post-season performance, as if that small sample of games is somehow indicative of some character trait. Besides, Uribe has two walks and 12 strikeouts in his 12 post-season games so far, accompanying a game-breaking three-run blast in Game One of the World Series. The larger point is this -- playoffs magnify performance, in part because players are on national display for multiple games at a time. 

Call it the Derek Jeter effect, although there are probably several of those. Much of Jeter's renown is a product of our familiarity with his talent from the playoffs. We're more personally and viscerally connected to the exploits of guys whose world class abilities are in our living room nightly. Watching Juan Uribe play a couple of games a year, spread over five months, doesn't make much impact on us, but a concentrated sample of his work gives us greater appreciation. Perhaps if the Giants made the playoffs with Uribe in the lineup for the next five years, he'd be a much more heralded player.


The Buck's Gotta Stop
Joe Buck's the most-watched and highest-paid baseball announcer in the world, wouldn't you think? The ability to entertain and inform people extemporaneously via broadcast media is a rare gift that I acknowledge and admire. It's easy to take shots at people who must speak for three hours without a script five nights-a-week.

But it is reasonable to ask those talents to be informed about their subjects. Joe Buck 2010 ought to know something about the game that Jack Buck 1975 didn't. On that point, alas.

On Jeff Francoeur, the over-talented major league bust whom the Rangers over-hopefully picked up in August after the Mets finally cut bait, Buck demonstrated that he has no idea what makes a successful ballplayer.

Buck recounted what a promising rookie campaign Francoeur had, batting .300 with 14 home runs in half a season, how Francoeur had pounded 29 homers in his sophomore season and how he'd knocked in 100+ runs twice for the Braves.

But if there is a consistent theme in Jeff Francoeur's career it's that he has no idea where the strike zone is. For his career -- now more than 3,400 plate appearances -- Francoeur has walked just 168 times, or about 29 times per 600 trips to the plate. He whiffs four times as often, largely because pitchers know he swings at bad pitches. Other great talents have burned up on the same funeral pyre.

The result is a lifetime .310 OBP, which is more important than his batting average, home run total, RBI count or anything else Joe Buck can name. It is the window on Francoeur's under-whelming career, which the highest-paid baseball announcer in the world still doesn't know how to -- or even why to -- open. It's not the only example of Buck's willful ignorance, but it's the most poignant.

Francoeur's at bat was instructive. The now-bearded outfielder flailed at two outside pitches and then took a called strike three. The lesson escaped the most-watched announcer in baseball.
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28 October 2010

Not the Hitless Wonders


Well, that was exactly as predicted. I had the Giants scoring 11 runs. All series. It's nice to polish off the to-do list in Game 1. That leaves them the rest of the week to kick back with a beer.

It's fun to trash the Giants for offensive offensiveness, but it overlooks one inconvenient fact: the Giants of October aren't the Lilliputians who opened the season.
Consider the pathetic roster Bruce Bochy put on the field to open the season. The top-paid free agent signing, center fielder Aaron Rowand, had gained renown mostly for dramatic outfield fence collisions in which he usually finished in second place. Rowand limped through half the season before being yanked, hitting a paltry .230/.281/.378.

Starting cornerman Pedro Sandoval was the Giants' big swinger last year, but his decline this season was utterly predictable. For one thing, the guy is made of jello. For another, he's allergic to walks. He's a decent fielder for his size, which is like saying that Charlie Sheen is a good husband for a drug addict.

San Francisco's run scoring juggernaut was capped by backstop Bengie Molina, who couldn't tear a paper bag with his swing from inside it. Molina hung 221 empty plate appearances on the team, making 152 outs and 84 total bases. The word that performance brings to mind is "minors," which is where the team went to find his replacement.

And that's the point. NL Rookie of the Year Should-be Buster Posey replaced Molina -- literally; they brought up Posey and fired Molina, who is now contributing to the Rangers' championship run -- and instantly topped the team's hitting chart. His .305/.357/.505 represented a 32 run upgrade for them.

Instead of Rowand, the good Dr. Jekyll Burrell arrived, pounding 18 homers and a .364 OBP in just 341 plate appearances. Just removing Rowand saved the team two runs; Burrell added another 19. Add waiver claim Cody Ross doing his Shane Victorino imitation and keeping Jose Guillen (.692 OPS) and Nate Schierholtz (.677 OPS) on the bench and the offense is visibly improved.

Bringing back Edgar Renteria from injury allowed Juan Uribe to slide over to third and sack Sandoval. Sum the parts with Aubrey Huff's (.891 OPS) year-long slugging and you are stuck with a conclusion that's bad for punchlines: the Giants are not the team that started the season. They're a decent hitting squad with some outfield power, representative bats at first, short and third and a budding superstar behind the plate.

Combined with their formidable arms and a Goth closer, it's suddenly not such a surprise that the Giants are in the World Series. They aren't the hitless wonders that began 2010.
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26 October 2010

The Mice Who Roar


I'm as thrilled as the next Yankee-basher that Texas has lost its playoff virginity and that either Dallas or San Fran gets its World Series cherry popped in the next two weeks. I'll be watching every whiff. (There'll be lots. The Giants can't hit and the Rangers will be facing great pitching.)

So understand that this isn't a complaint. But anyone who thinks these are the two best teams in baseball doesn't have both oars in the water. It's fair to say that the Rangers couldn't even win a bronze medal in the AL East Olympics.

So after a 162-game season and three rounds of playoffs, we'll have a definitive champion, but no answer to the question "who is the best team?" This works for me in baseball, at least to some extent, because the best team is the same one every year, by artificial means. It does mean that Rent-A-Wrecks like Detroit and St. Louis 2006 will vie for baseball's Daytona 500 now and then.

These contemplations coincide with publication of a new book fashionably calling for a Jihad against the BCS. Like most fans, its authors demand a playoff in college football. Well, I have some bad news for all of you.

We already have a college football playoff. The BCS is a two-team playoff that guarantees that one of the two -- or maybe three or four -- best teams in the land will emerge as champs. If you expand the playoff to eight or 16, some arbitrary method will be employed to choose the contestants, just as it is now. The championship game, though, could pair any of those 16 teams, including the two weakest. Definitive champ; pit in stomach.

If you're sipping at the playoff punch, remember this too: a 16-team playoff would suck the marrow out of the college football season. Oregon, Boise State, TCU, Auburn, Alabama and Ohio State could all cruise to the finish at this point because a loss, or even two in some cases, wouldn't knock them out of the top 16. Under the current system, every game is swollen with import. The result is a fascinating college football season that usually gives us a definitive champion that can also credibly claim to be the best in the land.

Personally, I prefer the chaos, the mayhem and the endless arguments. Sports talk radio would have to fill its hours with even more insipid subjects than it does now were it not for debates about non-BCS schedules, comparative undefeateds without opponent overlap, and objective versus subjective rating systems. Do you really want to hear more rambling, inarticulate quarterback voice mail messages that knock the bronze off their senders' Canton bust? Because that's the kind of mindlessness that would fill the chasm created by eliminating college football debates.

Every sport grapples with this. The NBA and NHL have chosen to steer their regular seasons off a cliff, much to their long-term detriment, I would argue. Pro football, benighted in all it surveys, seems to have successfully played both ends against the middle (and it's collecting the vig too.) College football has the regular season nailed and the post-season is tacked down pretty good too, the righteous uproar not withstanding. Baseball is trying to have it both ways and the result is predictably a little of everything. The season is important, but once you squeak into the playoffs, you're as likely to win as those who roar in. 

And this year, the mice are roaring.
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23 October 2010

Dear Cliff Lee


Okay, I can breathe again. I can blog again. Thank you, Texas Rangers.

A quick note to Cliff Lee:

Dear Cliff,

I know that the Yankees are going to throw a spadillion dollars at you to reunite Sabathia & Lee. I understand that, though the difference between a spadillion and 20 million is inconceivable to me, it's a ton of cash to you. And to the union too.

I'm sure you can live comfortably in LA or Cincinnati or Chicago or wherever on $20 million. I'm thinking your wife can probably shop at Whole Foods every week on that salary. If you want that OnStar system in the Lexus, Cliff, I'm thinking Scott Boras would approve. It probably won't prevent you from making those Berkshire-Hathaway investments.

Now let's talk about happiness, Cliff. You're a southern boy. New York and Boston are not like Arkansas. They tahk funny thayah. They're crazy Socialists who want to tax rich people like you. They don't care about SEC football. Heck, they don't care about college sports, period. The extra Benjamins won't change any of that.

Nor will it change the weather. You want your hands to be numb in April and October? I didn't think so, Cliff.

Remember, you won the Cy Young in Cleveland. You went to the World Series with Philly. You're back again with the Rangers. You're a hero in North Texas today. You don't need the damn Yankees. If New York were to get to the championship with you as their #2 starter, you wouldn't get much credit. C'mon, they've got CC and Mo and Jeter and ARod and Teixeira. There's not much room for Cliff. Besides, there would be no novelty in NY or Boston. People don't worship you for delivering title #28, particularly when some of your teammates were around six titles ago.

Spadilllion schmillion. Stay in Dallas, Cliff. They're practically your home team. Or maybe St. Louis or Atlanta is. They're nice places. Go to Anaheim or Seattle or Phoenix. Be the guy who saved baseball, not another sucker who went to NY for the money.

Your friend,
Waldo
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15 October 2010

The Inevitable is Still Inevitable


As I write this, CC Sabathia is collecting splinters while the Yankee bullpen mops up his 5-2 mess against the Rangers in Game 1 of the ALCS. If Texas hangs on for six more outs, they guarantee themselves one game in the series.

New York enjoys the largest payroll disparity over Texas in all of playoff history and they avoid an over-abundance of Ranger poison pill, Cliff Lee. The Rangers throw Colby Lewis against the World Champs in Games 2 and 5, and Game 1 starter CJ Wilson returns in Games 4 and 7. They're nice young players, but Jorge Posada has seen 114 others just like them. He's not exactly quaking in his stirrups.

You might recall that the last Lone Star playoff triumph against the Yankees was Game 1 of a series more than a decade ago, which impressively preceded nine straight New York victories.

Pay close attention to how the home team reacts on Saturday. Unless their gaze is laser-locked on Game 2, they are toast. One nanosecond of gloating or bemoaning dooms them against the experienced and immensely-talented Gotham juggernaut.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A moment now to rebut my own statement about the Yankees owning the largest payroll disparity over Texas in all of playoff history, roughly $150 million. Jeter and ARod cash larger checks than the entire roster in Arlington.

At the risk of defending the evil scourge that is the Yankees, much of payroll disparity is really experience disparity. In their first six years of MLB service, players cannot seek market-based compensation. So Josh Hamilton’s salary could bring the entire Kardashian family and still not get into Curtis Granderson’s party. Had Hamilton forgone four years of nostril-toasting, he’d be making enough to buy Cleveland, not counting anything still owned by LeBron.

Of course, the Yankees would be paying that salary, having gorged on the best available free-agent outfielder, so that does undermine my argument. Hamilton may be a crackhead, but as long as he hits 30 homers and scrapes the hair off his face regularly, he’s Yankee material.* I haven't a piercing, a tatoo or a felony conviction on my person, but even if I could slug .600, the Yankees would be put off by my hirsuteness. Just another reason to despise the the franchise, just behind Kim Jong Il and ahead of Mussolini.

*That was just a rhetorical flourish: I admire Josh’s fortitude and wish him good luck, especially the next seven games. But that’s not the way to bet.
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11 October 2010

Wake Me Up for Spring Training


And there you go. It's already evident why the baseball playoffs have become a giant anti-climax to a thrilling 162-game marathon.

If you find yourself yawning and checking your fantasy football roster, it's because the Yankees are already booking their rooms in Philadelphia. Having humiliated the Twins, they now face the prospect of a match-up with the pitching depleted Rays or Rangers. A series versus Texas without the services of Cliff Lee until Game 3 is as compelling as a hammer-nail competition. Texas is more likely to secede from the Union (again) than beat New York in a seven-game ALCS. Tampa might prolong the dance, but three Sabathia starts weighs more heavily -- literally and figuratively -- than anything the Rays can pull from their $70 million roster.

In fact, it was only two games into the playoffs before we already knew that the franchise with advantages at every level -- in the draft, in international signings, in payroll, in recruiting players; in everything -- will yet again compete in the championship series. Ho hum. Fans in Seattle and Chicago and Houston and Toronto and Kansas City must again be filled with glee.

And if the Yankees face the favored Phillies, we will once again witness the sorry spectacle of outdoor baseball on frigid November nights in the Northeast. That's just how Abner Doubleday drew it up, don't you think? The sting of the bat, the clattering of teeth,
the pristine white of snow flurries sprinkling the brown grass. The Boys of Winter.

ZZZZzzzzzz.

06 October 2010

NL MVP: Gotta Have A Votto Love

That the prime candidates for 2010 NL MVP all toiled for contenders should not lull you into the cognitive weakness of assuming that “leading his team to the pennant” is a credible skill.

The four legitimate contenders clubbed their way to stardom for the Rockies, Cardinals, Padres and Reds. They deserve consideration not because their teams won bunches of games but because they personally contributed at the highest levels.  But first, a word about a young outfielder who is not a viable candidate.

If batting average, steals and outfield versatility float your boat, Carlos Gonzalez is your coxswain. The Venezuelan lefty hit .336 to pace the league, swiped 26 bases and deployed variously to all three outfield positions. But Cargo didn’t work the count at an MVP level, leaving his more relevant on base percentage at .376, 37th best in baseball, six spots behind Chipper Jones and his .265 BA.

Moreover, Cargo was a thin air demon, managing just a .289/.322/.453 line with a mere eight of his 34 dingers away from Denver. Most batters perform better when there’s no hotel involved, but those splits suggest that Cargo’s a good hitter exploiting a very favorable condition. Nix!

Anyway, there’s a superior candidate from Colorado: shortstop Troy Tulowitzki. Tulo hit .315/.381/.568 with more normal platoon splits. While those numbers don’t match Cargo’s they tower over the average shortstop’s. Whereas Gonzalez cooled just as the Rockies ran out of steam at season’s end, Tulo kept the engine stoked, accumulating a 1.127 OPS in the last month and banging 12 of his 27 homers.

In fact, Tulowitzki’s greater MVP competition is another Gonzalez, Masochist of the Year Adrian Gonzalez. San Diego’s first baseman has the dubious distinction of playing his home games in the Grand Canyon, surrounded by a lineup of replacement-level hitters. That he was able to produce a .298/.393/.511 line and 31 homers while carrying the entire Padre offense on his back is remarkable. His road record -- .315 .402 .578 with 20 homers – suggests that Petco seriously kiboshes his power. 

That's all very nice, but now let's talk about the National League's Most Valuable Player.

There is a pair of first baseman whose performances require no explanations. Albert Pujols and Joey Votto delivered seasons superior in nearly every way to the above-named. Pujols (.312/.414/.596 with 14 steals in 18 attempts) and Votto (.324/.424/.600 with 16 steals in 21 attempts) sufficiently outpaced Tulowitzki to overwhelm his added value as a shortstop, and simply overwhelm the accomplishments of the Messers Gonzalez.

While Votto is a perfectly perfunctory first baseman, Pujols’s defensive acumen shaves off Votto’s offensive edge. Both players lit it up in August and early September, when Cincinnati pulled away from St. Louis, and both play in parks that don’t much favor offense or defense. Pujols stayed healthy for all but two games and delivered his excellence in 52 more plate appearances.

So why is Joey Votto my MVP? You can divine meaning from the sixth decimal place if you like, but basically the two are even. Votto, though, carried the Reds’ offense. Whereas Pujols had a trusty sidekick in Matt Holliday (.922 OPS) with support from Colby Rasmus and Ryan Ludwick for two-thirds of the season, Votto’s supporting cast was a revitalized Scott Rolen (.855 OPS) and the likes of Jay Bruce and Drew Stubbs.

Votto gets my vote by a split hair over the best player in the game. If the baseball writers split the hair differently, that’s fine. Any other vote is a Ricky Riccardo – they got a lot a ‘splainin’ to do.
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