Lies, Damned Lies and Statistics

Four out of five people -- nearly half! -- are innumerate. It's online, so it must be true.

When I was a reporter, the local county executive of one political stripe was battling over budgetary matters with the rival-dominated legislature. The legislative leader claimed that the rate of increase in the budget had spiked 200%. The number-addled media duly reported it.

The next day, the county executive responded that he had hog-tied spending 25% below inflation. The media, without any effort or ability to analyze the apparent paradox, simply passed that along too.

Of course, the few reporters like me who could count to 11 without removing their footwear knew that they were both spinning absurdly the same information. The county had increased spending in year one by 1% and in year two by 3%. That's a tripling in the rate of increase, which is 200%. Since the cost of living was rising at four percent, the rate of county spending had risen three-quarters of that, or 25% less. As Mark Twain noted, there are three types of lies: lies, damned lies and statistics.

In baseball, statistics are like fire: a wonderful servant and terrible master. People facile with statistics can use them to illuminate and enrich. Most people have a weak grip on stats and instead use them, often unknowingly, to obfuscate and confuse.

Two example jumped to mind this week. I'll address the second one in an upcoming post.

First, Ichiro Suzuki reached 200 hits for a record 10th straight year. This is noteworthy, and even somewhat significant, but not terribly so. If it were, it's hard to imagine that the DH-aided Mariners would be on pace to score the fewest runs in a season in 39 years. (Aside: "DH-aided" might be hyperbole. Seattle DHs are swimming underwater as a group in the Mendoza pool. Then again, so are their catchers. Their backstops, second-basemen and shortstops are slugging less than .300. Felix Hernandez deserves the Purple Heart for going 12-12.)

Collecting bunches of hits is always a good thing. To accrue 200, a batter must hit for average (.331 lifetime) and demonstrate durability over a six month regular season (he's averaging 158 games). Achieving that 10 straight years is a testament to consistency, reliability and hitting prowess. It doesn't hurt, of course, that Ichiro has led-off in nearly every game he's played.

Accumulating lots of hits is also a mark of one giant inability: getting on base by free pass. Albert Pujols has tallied 200 hits just once in his all-world career, yet he's batted safely more often than Ichiro in many fewer plate appearances. (They're both completing their 10th MLB season.) The Babe reached that level just three times.

Ichiro is a two-trick pony offensively. He gets hits and steals bases (an average of 38 SB/9 CS per campaign) but is almost a total power outage. For all his hits, he's reached 30 doubles just twice in his career and double-digits in homers twice.

Ichiro is a very extreme example of the hollowness of batting average. At .315 with just 37 extra base hits, Ichiro is 62nd in the majors in value over a replacement level player (VORP), just behind Carlos Ruiz and ahead of Austin Jackson. Failing to walk leaves him just 63rd in MLB in on-base percentage (among players with 300 PA) just behind Kelly Johnson and ahead of Jeff Keppinger. In short, Ichiro needs to bat about .330 to be a great hitter and at least .300 to be a good one.

Ichiro has been a great player mostly because his glove work, his dependability and his basepath prowess complement a sturdy OBP (.376 lifetime) fueled mostly by batting average. There's a certain level of novelty act to his career.  After all, Travis Hafner has a higher lifetime OBP than Ichiro with a bucket-load more power, but no one's bronzing his likeness. It's all the other things that make Ichiro a sublime player.

As the third best lead-off hitter of all time, Ichiro's a lock for the Hall of Fame. (Rickey & Rock both had higher OBP, higher SLG and more net steals; neither was Ichiro's equal in the field.) But he'll be on the low end in the Hall when considering actual value to his team.

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