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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