It might be interesting to consider what's in store for players who have changed teams while the hot stove burns. Here are Bill James's projections for the performances of a handful of key players.
Remember that these projections were assembled prior to the signings and trades that have dotted the off-season, and that projections are not predictions. And that Bill James is not God. In fact, he finished fourth in the holy trinity.
Josh Hamilton
2012 .285/.354/.577 43 HR 148 games
2013 .289/.356/.540 35 HR 147 games
This is an exceedingly generous projection considering:
1. Hamilton has moved from Arlington to Anaheim, which should punish his stats a bit.
2. The number of games Hamilton has stayed healthy for in a season looks like this: 90, 156, 89, 133, 121, 148. The logical next number is not 147.
R.A. Dickey
2012 20-8, 2.73 in 234 innings, 54 BB, 230 K
2013 16-8, 3.58 in 226 innings, 56 BB, 152 K
Projections on pitchers are difficult enough, but with a unique subject like Dickey who really has no comparables, examining other players is not necessarily helpful. Given that, this projection seems eminently reasonable. This suggests he'll still pitch very well but won't dominate. Translated to Toronto, and the AL Beast, these numbers are likely to degrade further.
Kendrys Morales
2012 .273/.320/.467, 22 HR in 134 games
2013 .284/.332/.489, 23 HR in 137 games
Morales broke out in 2009, his first full season, hitting .306 and smacking 34 homers. Off to another estimable campaign in 2010, he broke his leg jumping on the plate during a walk-off celebration. James is suggesting that last year was Kendrys's new normal, which will be normalized lower playing in Seattle's dead-ball zone. Projections also suggest that he'll want to poke his eyeballs out with hot needles after watching the likes of Jason Bay and Raul Ibanez take their hacks. Speaking of which . . .
Jason Bay
2011 .245/.329/.374, 12 HR in 123 games
2012 .165/.237/.299, eight HR in 70 games
2013 .247/.343/.413, 17 HR in 133 games
So James suggests that Bay will deliver the greatest bounceback from irrelevance as a 35-year-old in MLB history. Of course, the projection system didn't know that Bay would become part of a platoon -- with 104-year-old Raul Ibanez, no less -- making 133 games played (and therefore 17 dingers) as likely as good parenting from the platoon of Kim Kardashian and Kanye West.
Melky Cabrera
2011 with Royals - .305/.339/.470 in 155 games
2012 with Giants -- .346/.390/.516 in 113 games before his blood turned him in
2013 with Blue Jays -- .295/.348/.432 in 148 games
In other words, the projection system says that not only was 2012 a steroid-induced fluke, 2011 wasn't to be believed either. The 2013 projection isn't much better than Melky's lifetime averages, which, absent the two years in question, were below average. Good luck with that, Blue Jays.
Shane Victorino
2011 with Phils -- .279/.355/.491, 19 steals, 17 HR
2012 with Phils & Dodgers -- .255/.321/.383, 39 steals, 11 HR
2013 with Red Sox -- .269/.338/.418, 29 steals, 14 HR
Can you say, "split the difference?"
Nick Swisher
Lifetime .256/.361/.467, 25 HR, 84 RBI, 86 R, 84 BB, 134 K
2013 .256/.362/.458, 25 HR, 86 RBI, 82 R, 86 BB, 143 K
Sheesh, I could have projected that. I guess the Indians know who they signed.
Doubtless, one of these players is headed surprisingly south with his performance (unless it's Bay, who already inhabits baseball's Antarctica, and could therefore neither go south nor disappoint) in a manner beyond the capability of the projection system to foresee. Hey, if the game were predictable, it wouldn't be fun.
31 December 2012
26 December 2012
The Outs Just Keep On Coming!
Seattle GM Jack Zduriencik has decided to have a go at comedy. Check out this hysterical routine:
Having inked to a contract one old shoe -- Jason Bay -- the Mariners have signed his lefty-swinging counterpart -- Raul Ibanez, to a one-year, $2.75 million deal.
Jay Leno, are you listening? This is killer material!
Hey, it's the Mariners' three million, and they can do anything they want with it, including invest it in becoming a punchline. If that's the plan, they can expect a high return on investment.
The 41-year-old out"fielder" squashed 19 home runs in 425 Yankee plate appearances last season, but that's it. A .308 OBP and defensive skills as robust as his hairline scream "end of career." It appears that Zduriencik plans to platoon Bay and Ibanez for a bilateral chump-athon, when instead he could give Michael Saunders, Franklin Guttierez, Mike Carp and Casper Wells a year's worth of at-bats to determine what they can accomplish.
The talk in the Pacific Northwest is that Ibanez adds missing power to the Mariner lineup. But the M's don't lack power so much as they lack hitting. An Ibanez-Bay platoon could help resolve that. Or it could make all of Seattle go blind.
Zduriencik's recent moves have made his team worse. Someone needs to stop him before the Mariners become the Astros.
Having inked to a contract one old shoe -- Jason Bay -- the Mariners have signed his lefty-swinging counterpart -- Raul Ibanez, to a one-year, $2.75 million deal.
Jay Leno, are you listening? This is killer material!
Hey, it's the Mariners' three million, and they can do anything they want with it, including invest it in becoming a punchline. If that's the plan, they can expect a high return on investment.
The 41-year-old out"fielder" squashed 19 home runs in 425 Yankee plate appearances last season, but that's it. A .308 OBP and defensive skills as robust as his hairline scream "end of career." It appears that Zduriencik plans to platoon Bay and Ibanez for a bilateral chump-athon, when instead he could give Michael Saunders, Franklin Guttierez, Mike Carp and Casper Wells a year's worth of at-bats to determine what they can accomplish.
The talk in the Pacific Northwest is that Ibanez adds missing power to the Mariner lineup. But the M's don't lack power so much as they lack hitting. An Ibanez-Bay platoon could help resolve that. Or it could make all of Seattle go blind.
Zduriencik's recent moves have made his team worse. Someone needs to stop him before the Mariners become the Astros.
24 December 2012
The NFL's Existential Crisis
In 1970, appointed New York Senator Charles Goodell, a liberal Republican running for a full six-year term, faced an ideological sandwich between Democratic challenger Richard Ottinger on the left and Conservative James Buckley on the right. Many liberals and moderates asked Goodell to withdraw, but he demurred. Come election day, Ottinger nabbed the liberal vote, Buckley swept the conservative and Goodell's political career went "poof."
But that was nothing for the Goodell family.
Forty-two years later, pity his son Roger, chief executive officer of a $9 billion existential crisis. Goodell has served as the involuntary hatchet man for an industry whose product causes its employees massive physical degradation, traumatic brain injury and early death. The agent of these horrors -- repeated high-speed collisions -- is also the extraordinarily popular main product peddled by Goodell's industry, and his employees not only chafe at his efforts to safeguard their health they revile and deride him. Worse: so do many of his business's best customers.
At the same time, a large group of former employees are suing Goodell's industry for the very policies that current employees vociferously defend. Despite his industry's battalion of deep-pocketed counselors, the lawsuit is a multi-billion-dollar slam dunk.
The current Goodell faces an ideological sandwich similar to his father's and the knowledge that unless he carefully navigates the issue, he could be presiding over the most popular sport in American history also going "poof."
Most challenging for Goodell fils: the lawsuit, the players, the fans, the derision, they're all a sideshow. The commissioner's real challenge is this: the weekly car crashes that devastate players' bodies and threaten his sport are the grist of the NFL mill. Violence is killing the business, but without violence -- head-snapping, bone-crunching, felonious violence -- there is no business. Oh, the humanity.
So Goodell is doing what his father couldn't: manage the clock. He is attempting to slowly parse out the bodily destruction that can be attributed to the league while preserving the essential mayhem that propels the NFL ever upward in the world sports landscape. It's akin to carving out the fat from bacon, which is why it will take time and upset a lot of people. If he fails, Roger Goodell will have presided over the demise of a massive, unsinkable enterprise, legislated and litigated into oblivion.
If he succeeds, he will merely be remembered for ruining the game. And Gary Bettman thought he had problems.
But that was nothing for the Goodell family.
Forty-two years later, pity his son Roger, chief executive officer of a $9 billion existential crisis. Goodell has served as the involuntary hatchet man for an industry whose product causes its employees massive physical degradation, traumatic brain injury and early death. The agent of these horrors -- repeated high-speed collisions -- is also the extraordinarily popular main product peddled by Goodell's industry, and his employees not only chafe at his efforts to safeguard their health they revile and deride him. Worse: so do many of his business's best customers.
At the same time, a large group of former employees are suing Goodell's industry for the very policies that current employees vociferously defend. Despite his industry's battalion of deep-pocketed counselors, the lawsuit is a multi-billion-dollar slam dunk.
The current Goodell faces an ideological sandwich similar to his father's and the knowledge that unless he carefully navigates the issue, he could be presiding over the most popular sport in American history also going "poof."
Most challenging for Goodell fils: the lawsuit, the players, the fans, the derision, they're all a sideshow. The commissioner's real challenge is this: the weekly car crashes that devastate players' bodies and threaten his sport are the grist of the NFL mill. Violence is killing the business, but without violence -- head-snapping, bone-crunching, felonious violence -- there is no business. Oh, the humanity.
So Goodell is doing what his father couldn't: manage the clock. He is attempting to slowly parse out the bodily destruction that can be attributed to the league while preserving the essential mayhem that propels the NFL ever upward in the world sports landscape. It's akin to carving out the fat from bacon, which is why it will take time and upset a lot of people. If he fails, Roger Goodell will have presided over the demise of a massive, unsinkable enterprise, legislated and litigated into oblivion.
If he succeeds, he will merely be remembered for ruining the game. And Gary Bettman thought he had problems.
22 December 2012
More and More and More Playoffs: Blecch
My newspaper tells me that tonight's NFL tilt between Atlanta and Detroit will help determine whether the Falcons clinch home field advantage on the road to the Super Bowl. The implication is that the contest is significant for this reason despite decades of experience.
In fact, tonight's clash is a near total irrelevance. The last two Super Bowl champs staggered to 9-7 records and slipped into the playoffs in the last week before eliminating all those 13-3 and 12-4 behemoths with home field advantage.
In fact, in American professional sports today simply making the playoffs is the entire goal. Period. After that, flip a coin.
Don't believe me? The football Giants weren't the only team last year to parlay a mediocre regular season into a crown. The L.A. Kings stumbled into the NHL playoffs with more losses than wins, qualified last and then swept through their conference with easy wins over the #1, #2 and #3 seeds before winning the cup in six games.
The 2011 World Series champion St. Louis Cardinals snuck into the post-season on the last day of the regular season with the worst record in the playoffs. (The 2012 World Series champs, the division-winning S.F. Giants, were a legitimate champion.)
During a thankfully truncated NBA season, the Miami Heat faced boobirds and derision because of a 9-8 start before capturing the #2 seed in the East and winning it all.
So when the NHL announces that half its season is lost, even hockey fans should applaud. Forty games seems about right if all they're going to do is eliminate a handful of awful teams. (On the other hand, the league and its players appear on the verge of another Armageddon. All involved have a bright future in Congress, once they earn their American citizenship.)
And we should all laugh when the sport's advocates promote a meaningless match-up like tonight's Falcon-Lion snoozer, as a playoff positioner. Anyone paying the least bit of attention anytime over the last three decades realizes there's no such thing.
A good rule of thumb for playoffs should be this: Qualifying should be sufficiently difficult that some good teams get left out. That ensures that playoff qualifying is an accomplishment and that a good team will win the title irrespective of who catches fire for a couple of weeks in the post-season. Major League baseball and the NFL are both straddling the line, which the NBA and NHL long ago breached.
The NFL is reportedly considering the addition of two more teams to its playoff lineup. It is difficult to overstate how awesomely awful this idea is. Adding two more palyoff slots guarantees that an 8-8 team will parlay a couple of fluke wins into a Super Bowl championship. Blecch.
In fact, tonight's clash is a near total irrelevance. The last two Super Bowl champs staggered to 9-7 records and slipped into the playoffs in the last week before eliminating all those 13-3 and 12-4 behemoths with home field advantage.
In fact, in American professional sports today simply making the playoffs is the entire goal. Period. After that, flip a coin.
Don't believe me? The football Giants weren't the only team last year to parlay a mediocre regular season into a crown. The L.A. Kings stumbled into the NHL playoffs with more losses than wins, qualified last and then swept through their conference with easy wins over the #1, #2 and #3 seeds before winning the cup in six games.
The 2011 World Series champion St. Louis Cardinals snuck into the post-season on the last day of the regular season with the worst record in the playoffs. (The 2012 World Series champs, the division-winning S.F. Giants, were a legitimate champion.)
During a thankfully truncated NBA season, the Miami Heat faced boobirds and derision because of a 9-8 start before capturing the #2 seed in the East and winning it all.
So when the NHL announces that half its season is lost, even hockey fans should applaud. Forty games seems about right if all they're going to do is eliminate a handful of awful teams. (On the other hand, the league and its players appear on the verge of another Armageddon. All involved have a bright future in Congress, once they earn their American citizenship.)
And we should all laugh when the sport's advocates promote a meaningless match-up like tonight's Falcon-Lion snoozer, as a playoff positioner. Anyone paying the least bit of attention anytime over the last three decades realizes there's no such thing.
A good rule of thumb for playoffs should be this: Qualifying should be sufficiently difficult that some good teams get left out. That ensures that playoff qualifying is an accomplishment and that a good team will win the title irrespective of who catches fire for a couple of weeks in the post-season. Major League baseball and the NFL are both straddling the line, which the NBA and NHL long ago breached.
The NFL is reportedly considering the addition of two more teams to its playoff lineup. It is difficult to overstate how awesomely awful this idea is. Adding two more palyoff slots guarantees that an 8-8 team will parlay a couple of fluke wins into a Super Bowl championship. Blecch.
16 December 2012
A Great Trade for Toronto
You, perhaps, comprehend the recent blockbuster trade between Tampa Bay and Kansas City. Perhaps you grasp string theory, follow NHL negotiations and appreciate the subtle talent of Demi Lovato. Or perhaps you're one of the general managers involved. For the rest of us in the baseball universe, the Tampa-KC deal was a Christmas-time Gift of the Magi.
With the Yankees diving headlong towards the salary cap, the Red Sox scrambling back to relevance and the Orioles seeking a new bottle for their lightning, the pitching-rich Rays appeared ready to enter 2013 a co-favorite for the AL East title.
The Royals, meanwhile, are still mixing up potions to consolidate the talent they've amassed on their roster with all those high draft picks. Absent the elusive formula, they remain a second-division team.
And yet, the franchise with the distant horizon flipped long-term investments for instant gratification, while the franchise aiming to fly its flag this year relinquished a key piece of the puzzle for a possible future bonanza. Suddenly, explaining the general theory of relativity seems simple.
Specifically, the Royals sent minor league outfielder Wil Myers, a top-10 prospect, along with three other farmhands of various promise, for James Shields, an All-Star hurler and Wade Davis, a mid-rotation righty who pitched effectively out of the bullpen in 2012. While Myers and his comrades were KC's for six years of cost control, the two Major Leaguers they landed in return are signed for two years at $29 - $35 million, plus three option years on Davis at $25 million with a $2.5 million buyout.
Similarly, Tampa dumped their #2 starter and a useful bullpen piece for future returns just as the rest of the division has stepped back and left them to catch the bouquet. They save millions of dollars, for sure, but that's not how you win a pennant. They are betting on minor leaguers, none of whom is likely to contribute at the MLB level this coming season, if ever.
This is an Arty the Smarty transaction in which both sides are swimming against the current. Even if Shields and Davis deliver steak as expected, the good people of western Missouri still have to choke down lumpy mashed potatoes and creamed spinach along with them. This deal suggests that GM Dayton Moore dreams of a .500 season. And won't Rays GM Andrew Friedman be kicking himself if the team skids to within a few games of the playoffs for want of a #2 starter while this bag of goodies spends the year developing in Durham?
If you're Friedman or Moore, perhaps you can explain this. Perhaps the Royals believe that their talent-laden lineup is ready to metamorphose in 2013 and a pair of Major League arms will catapult them to the top of a weak division. Perhaps Tampa Bay believes it has squeezed all the quality it can out of Shields and will use the pocketed funds to fill holes at first, DH or back in the rotation. Only they know.
On face value though, this deal fails the smell test for both sides. But it looks great for the pennant hopes of the Toronto Blue Jays.
With the Yankees diving headlong towards the salary cap, the Red Sox scrambling back to relevance and the Orioles seeking a new bottle for their lightning, the pitching-rich Rays appeared ready to enter 2013 a co-favorite for the AL East title.
The Royals, meanwhile, are still mixing up potions to consolidate the talent they've amassed on their roster with all those high draft picks. Absent the elusive formula, they remain a second-division team.
And yet, the franchise with the distant horizon flipped long-term investments for instant gratification, while the franchise aiming to fly its flag this year relinquished a key piece of the puzzle for a possible future bonanza. Suddenly, explaining the general theory of relativity seems simple.
Specifically, the Royals sent minor league outfielder Wil Myers, a top-10 prospect, along with three other farmhands of various promise, for James Shields, an All-Star hurler and Wade Davis, a mid-rotation righty who pitched effectively out of the bullpen in 2012. While Myers and his comrades were KC's for six years of cost control, the two Major Leaguers they landed in return are signed for two years at $29 - $35 million, plus three option years on Davis at $25 million with a $2.5 million buyout.
Similarly, Tampa dumped their #2 starter and a useful bullpen piece for future returns just as the rest of the division has stepped back and left them to catch the bouquet. They save millions of dollars, for sure, but that's not how you win a pennant. They are betting on minor leaguers, none of whom is likely to contribute at the MLB level this coming season, if ever.
This is an Arty the Smarty transaction in which both sides are swimming against the current. Even if Shields and Davis deliver steak as expected, the good people of western Missouri still have to choke down lumpy mashed potatoes and creamed spinach along with them. This deal suggests that GM Dayton Moore dreams of a .500 season. And won't Rays GM Andrew Friedman be kicking himself if the team skids to within a few games of the playoffs for want of a #2 starter while this bag of goodies spends the year developing in Durham?
If you're Friedman or Moore, perhaps you can explain this. Perhaps the Royals believe that their talent-laden lineup is ready to metamorphose in 2013 and a pair of Major League arms will catapult them to the top of a weak division. Perhaps Tampa Bay believes it has squeezed all the quality it can out of Shields and will use the pocketed funds to fill holes at first, DH or back in the rotation. Only they know.
On face value though, this deal fails the smell test for both sides. But it looks great for the pennant hopes of the Toronto Blue Jays.
11 December 2012
Insight on the Hall of Fame (not mine)
A 22-year-old Deadspin intern has offered the most cogent argument I've read against barring the Hall of Fame door against Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Mark McGwire, et. al.
Read David Roher's perspective here at Baseball Prospectus. Here's an excerpt:
"But the writers will never do that, [advocate for the removal of all players who set a bad example for children] because their case against steroid users has nothing to do with history and everything to do with their own nostalgia and insecurity. Just as the baseball establishment of the 1960s scrambled to find a way to keep Babe Ruth ahead of Roger Maris, it is now trying to find a way to keep Roger Maris ahead of Bonds and Mark McGwire. The naysayers are killing two birds with one stone: they’re assuring their inner child that Mantle and Mays are way better than the new cheaters, while assuring their outer adult that they’re mature enough to care about morality in sports."
Read David Roher's perspective here at Baseball Prospectus. Here's an excerpt:
"But the writers will never do that, [advocate for the removal of all players who set a bad example for children] because their case against steroid users has nothing to do with history and everything to do with their own nostalgia and insecurity. Just as the baseball establishment of the 1960s scrambled to find a way to keep Babe Ruth ahead of Roger Maris, it is now trying to find a way to keep Roger Maris ahead of Bonds and Mark McGwire. The naysayers are killing two birds with one stone: they’re assuring their inner child that Mantle and Mays are way better than the new cheaters, while assuring their outer adult that they’re mature enough to care about morality in sports."
Another Unnecessary Flogging of Poor Jeff Francoeur
A special shout out to the Kansas City Royals for their continuing employment of Jeff Francoeur. The well-traveled right fielder is to baseball's new analysis what Pat Robertson is to liberals and Barney Frank is to conservatives: if he didn't exist we'd have to invent him. He consolidates the base and attracts independents to our side.
So begging forgiveness from the Francoeur family for relentlessly tweaking their kin, here is the annual recitation of his deficiencies, the kind that largely escape the gaze of sportswriters who still think the Triple Crown is the be-all and end-all.
Francoeur last season smacked 16 home runs while playing his home games in a spacious park, and he did so while taking home baseball table scraps of $6.75 million. At 6'4" and 220, the Atlanta native is a strapping and chiseled hunk who flashes the tools of his trade and apparently delights his teammates with his bonhomie. All that might endear him to traditionalists.
Now look at the rest of his resume: In 2012, he hit .235/.287/.378, which means he made an out 71.3% of the time. He got caught stealing seven of his 11 attempts, fanned 119 times while walking just 34 and, according to the three major fielding metric systems, butchered the nine-hole. According to Baseball Prospectus, Francoeur cost the Royals three wins compared to any arbitrary Triple-A replacement earning the league minimum. They are kind: Baseball-Reference says he cost them 3.2 wins.
For his career, Francoeur is now at .266/.310/.426, fifth outfielder credentials. Despite 137 home runs and that gun attached to his right shoulder, he has contributed to his teams between two and five wins over eight seasons, almost all of it in 2011. For that they have recompensed him more than $18 million, with another $7.5 million due in 2013.
Francoeur's issue, as you are probably all too aware, is that he is utterly bereft of strike zone command. In his career, he has walked merely five percent of the time, meaning that pitchers know he will offer at whatever putrid slop they shovel before him. The result is that unless he bats .300, he has little value, and even with his intuitive skills .300 is a pipe dream when you swing at everything. Additionally, while he's an assassin against base runners, he's a sitting duck on the base paths, costing his teams 21 extra outs attempting to steal.
Francoeur is at this point what he is, a placeholder until the Royals . . . um . . . get contracted? He will never contribute significantly to winning baseball, and no team with pennant aspirations should ever hire him unless they need someone to model their unis.
So begging forgiveness from the Francoeur family for relentlessly tweaking their kin, here is the annual recitation of his deficiencies, the kind that largely escape the gaze of sportswriters who still think the Triple Crown is the be-all and end-all.
Francoeur last season smacked 16 home runs while playing his home games in a spacious park, and he did so while taking home baseball table scraps of $6.75 million. At 6'4" and 220, the Atlanta native is a strapping and chiseled hunk who flashes the tools of his trade and apparently delights his teammates with his bonhomie. All that might endear him to traditionalists.
Now look at the rest of his resume: In 2012, he hit .235/.287/.378, which means he made an out 71.3% of the time. He got caught stealing seven of his 11 attempts, fanned 119 times while walking just 34 and, according to the three major fielding metric systems, butchered the nine-hole. According to Baseball Prospectus, Francoeur cost the Royals three wins compared to any arbitrary Triple-A replacement earning the league minimum. They are kind: Baseball-Reference says he cost them 3.2 wins.
For his career, Francoeur is now at .266/.310/.426, fifth outfielder credentials. Despite 137 home runs and that gun attached to his right shoulder, he has contributed to his teams between two and five wins over eight seasons, almost all of it in 2011. For that they have recompensed him more than $18 million, with another $7.5 million due in 2013.
Francoeur's issue, as you are probably all too aware, is that he is utterly bereft of strike zone command. In his career, he has walked merely five percent of the time, meaning that pitchers know he will offer at whatever putrid slop they shovel before him. The result is that unless he bats .300, he has little value, and even with his intuitive skills .300 is a pipe dream when you swing at everything. Additionally, while he's an assassin against base runners, he's a sitting duck on the base paths, costing his teams 21 extra outs attempting to steal.
Francoeur is at this point what he is, a placeholder until the Royals . . . um . . . get contracted? He will never contribute significantly to winning baseball, and no team with pennant aspirations should ever hire him unless they need someone to model their unis.
09 December 2012
Phillies Get Young, Old
In the history of humankind, every empire has dissolved for the same reason: it failed to recognize that its shrinking economy could no longer sustain its foreign adventures.
It appears that Ruben Amaro, Jr. is no student of history.
The Phillies' general manager, he of the big splash variety, continues to send his warships to sea while apparently oblivious to the dilapidated state of the franchise back home. An aging squad with depreciating assets, they are no longer the division-winning Phillies of '07-'11. HMS Werth, Victorino, Pence, Lidge and Ibanez are gone and HMS Rollins, Utley, Polanco and Howard are taking on water fast. But for three of baseball's best starting pitchers and incompetent competition in Miami, this is a last place team.
And now, Amaro has spent $6 million and a pair of farmhands -- one of whom is considered a real prospect -- to fill third base with a rusting Michael Young. In a sense, Young is a real Phillie: a former star who has burned up most of his gas. At 36 last season he appropriately saw most of his time at DH and 1B and for the first time battled injuries and ineffectiveness at the plate. His last 100 games or so at third base have not been pretty even when he could hit.
While Texas dances a little jig that they unloaded Young and got something in return, even if they have to eat $10 million, the Phils can expect pretty much replacement level results at the hot corner. For that, they could have signed Eric Chavez for a nice fruit salad and platooned him with Kevin Frandsen, who hit .338 in 195 at bats last season and is arbitration eligible for the first time.
Michael Young is a talented hitter who might hit .300 again and provide a win or two in Philadelphia, though at his age that's no longer the way to bet. But to what purpose? The Phils need to regroup, not reload with empty uniforms. Amaro seemed to understand that when he flipped Victorino and Pence last season for prospects.
This is a pretty minor deal that likely won't alter Philadelphia's prospects much in '13. But if it's representative of Amaro's mindset going into the season, God help the poor beleaguered fans of that city. They've already had to endure the Eagles, 76ers and Flyers. At least the Freedoms got a song.
It appears that Ruben Amaro, Jr. is no student of history.
The Phillies' general manager, he of the big splash variety, continues to send his warships to sea while apparently oblivious to the dilapidated state of the franchise back home. An aging squad with depreciating assets, they are no longer the division-winning Phillies of '07-'11. HMS Werth, Victorino, Pence, Lidge and Ibanez are gone and HMS Rollins, Utley, Polanco and Howard are taking on water fast. But for three of baseball's best starting pitchers and incompetent competition in Miami, this is a last place team.
And now, Amaro has spent $6 million and a pair of farmhands -- one of whom is considered a real prospect -- to fill third base with a rusting Michael Young. In a sense, Young is a real Phillie: a former star who has burned up most of his gas. At 36 last season he appropriately saw most of his time at DH and 1B and for the first time battled injuries and ineffectiveness at the plate. His last 100 games or so at third base have not been pretty even when he could hit.
While Texas dances a little jig that they unloaded Young and got something in return, even if they have to eat $10 million, the Phils can expect pretty much replacement level results at the hot corner. For that, they could have signed Eric Chavez for a nice fruit salad and platooned him with Kevin Frandsen, who hit .338 in 195 at bats last season and is arbitration eligible for the first time.
Michael Young is a talented hitter who might hit .300 again and provide a win or two in Philadelphia, though at his age that's no longer the way to bet. But to what purpose? The Phils need to regroup, not reload with empty uniforms. Amaro seemed to understand that when he flipped Victorino and Pence last season for prospects.
This is a pretty minor deal that likely won't alter Philadelphia's prospects much in '13. But if it's representative of Amaro's mindset going into the season, God help the poor beleaguered fans of that city. They've already had to endure the Eagles, 76ers and Flyers. At least the Freedoms got a song.
05 December 2012
Jason Bay, You Complete Us
The Seattle Mariners have reportedly signed Jason Bay to a one-year contract. This makes perfect sense if the Mariners have been justifiably relegated to Triple-A. Or if the Mariners have signed Bay to the position of clubhouse attendant.
Adding Jason Bay to the Mariners is like putting ketchup on a tomato. Except ketchup is good. Jason Bay batted .054 when behind in the count last year. Let's say it's like rubbing your dirt in mud. It's like Lindsay Lohan marrying Kanye West.
Combining Jason Bay and the offensively-challenged Mariners is like keying a junker. What's the point? It seems redundant. Like yin and yin -- with bad feng shui added in.
The Mariners' singular outstanding characteristic is that for the last half decade they have hit like girls. Their best hitters last year were gentlemen named John Jaso, Kyle Seager and Michael Saunders. These are players who would be unrecognized by Mariner fans if there were any left. Seager and Saunders reached base 31.6% and 30.6% of the time respectively last year.
So Bay should feel right at home. Last year, he slugged .299 for the Mets, which is impressive considering he batted .165 and posted a .237 on base percentage. (That doesn't include his .133 batting average and no extra base hits in 20 plate appearances at Single-A.) Of course, he hit nothing while staggering around the clubhouse with a series of ailments that consumed a third of his season.
In short, Jason Bay followed a lousy 2010 with an awful 2011 that was a mere prelude to 2012. And the Seattle Mariners, a team with an on base percentage under .300 the last three years, has added him to their roster. This is the quintessential case of gilding the lily. Except by "gilding" we mean "fertilizing" and by "lily" we mean "cesspool."
Enjoy 2013, Mariner fans, wherever you are!
Adding Jason Bay to the Mariners is like putting ketchup on a tomato. Except ketchup is good. Jason Bay batted .054 when behind in the count last year. Let's say it's like rubbing your dirt in mud. It's like Lindsay Lohan marrying Kanye West.
Combining Jason Bay and the offensively-challenged Mariners is like keying a junker. What's the point? It seems redundant. Like yin and yin -- with bad feng shui added in.
The Mariners' singular outstanding characteristic is that for the last half decade they have hit like girls. Their best hitters last year were gentlemen named John Jaso, Kyle Seager and Michael Saunders. These are players who would be unrecognized by Mariner fans if there were any left. Seager and Saunders reached base 31.6% and 30.6% of the time respectively last year.
So Bay should feel right at home. Last year, he slugged .299 for the Mets, which is impressive considering he batted .165 and posted a .237 on base percentage. (That doesn't include his .133 batting average and no extra base hits in 20 plate appearances at Single-A.) Of course, he hit nothing while staggering around the clubhouse with a series of ailments that consumed a third of his season.
In short, Jason Bay followed a lousy 2010 with an awful 2011 that was a mere prelude to 2012. And the Seattle Mariners, a team with an on base percentage under .300 the last three years, has added him to their roster. This is the quintessential case of gilding the lily. Except by "gilding" we mean "fertilizing" and by "lily" we mean "cesspool."
Enjoy 2013, Mariner fans, wherever you are!
04 December 2012
Hall of Flameouts, Writer Edition
The day Boom Boom Mancini climbed into the ring with Duk Koo Kim, he could hardly have known that he was about to make history, and not the kind he'd want to write home to Youngstown about.
Nor did Greg Norman know, entering the final round of the 1996 Masters, the thrashing that history would bestow upon him.
Likewise, Wally Pipp probably never considered how a day off would turn into a headache that would linger thereafter in the record books. (For the record, the whole headache story is a myth.)
In the coming weeks, members of the Baseball Writers Association of America will very likely thrust themselves into the trash bin of history, possibly without realizing the folly with which future generations will view their decisions. Sometime before January 9, the writers will almost certainly reject the Hall of Fame candidacies of Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Mark McGwire, Mike Piazza and Sammy Sosa.
In case you're not keeping score at home, that would be MLB's greatest power/speed combination and home run king, the most fearsome pitcher of his generation, the 10th all-time home run hitter who retired with a .982 OPS, the greatest hitting catcher ever, and the only player in the game's 140 years to hit 60+ home runs in three different seasons. The history books are already warming up a good guffaw.
If all goes as threatened, the Hall of Fame will be absent the group above in addition to the all-time hits leader (Pete Rose), the third greatest hitter for average of all-time (Joe Jackson) and the man who transformed players from chattel to multimillionaires (Marvin Miller). It will, however, include an empty suit (Bowie Kuhn) and a long list of mediocrities, most of whose HOF cases, if you could call them that, rested on high batting averages in an era of high batting averages (Lloyd Waner, Rick Ferrell and Freddie Lindstrom among others). While the writers pass on the list above, they seem poised to coronate a pitcher (Jack Morris) with a 3.90 lifetime ERA and about as much value to his teams as, say, Lon Werneke. Yes, the Arkansas Hummingbird himself.
It makes you wonder why they don't just roll up the sidewalks of Cooperstown and forget it ever existed. A Baseball Hall of Fame without Pete Rose, Marvin Miller, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens is the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame without the Beatles, Rolling Stones and Bill Graham.
And yet, I don't blame the writers. They have the awesome responsibility of dissecting krill from the baleen of blue whales. No one will ever know for sure if, when and how much the needle contributed to the resumes of the aforementioned, nor if, when and how much it contributed to those whose reputations have yet been sullied. They must distinguish greatness in a swirl of uncertainty through the haze of impropriety.
If history's derision doesn't move the writers to admit a few of the behemoths perhaps a logistical problem will. A major front is brewing over the next two years that threatens ballot mayhem by 2014. This year's selections include legitimate candidates Craig Biggio, Jeff Bagwell, Tim Raines, Curt Schilling and Edgar Martinez. (Also aboard: Alan Trammel, Larry Walker and Kenny Lofton, who come up short, in my view.) Entering the ballot the following year will be Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine, Mike Mussina and Frank Thomas -- again, all worthy. With Clemens, Bonds, McGwire and Piazza, that's 13 candidates -- 14 with Sosa -- and only 10 votes per ballot. The logjam could cause serious gridlock for years. A writer with a multi-year time horizon would be well-served admitting a gaggle of those eligible.
Whatever the writers decide today will be fodder for their 2062 brethren, who are likely to sniff the dominance of Bonds, Clemens and their ilk and wonder what their progenitors were smoking. BBWAA, you've had your warning, which is more than Ray Mancini got.
Nor did Greg Norman know, entering the final round of the 1996 Masters, the thrashing that history would bestow upon him.
Likewise, Wally Pipp probably never considered how a day off would turn into a headache that would linger thereafter in the record books. (For the record, the whole headache story is a myth.)
In the coming weeks, members of the Baseball Writers Association of America will very likely thrust themselves into the trash bin of history, possibly without realizing the folly with which future generations will view their decisions. Sometime before January 9, the writers will almost certainly reject the Hall of Fame candidacies of Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Mark McGwire, Mike Piazza and Sammy Sosa.
In case you're not keeping score at home, that would be MLB's greatest power/speed combination and home run king, the most fearsome pitcher of his generation, the 10th all-time home run hitter who retired with a .982 OPS, the greatest hitting catcher ever, and the only player in the game's 140 years to hit 60+ home runs in three different seasons. The history books are already warming up a good guffaw.
If all goes as threatened, the Hall of Fame will be absent the group above in addition to the all-time hits leader (Pete Rose), the third greatest hitter for average of all-time (Joe Jackson) and the man who transformed players from chattel to multimillionaires (Marvin Miller). It will, however, include an empty suit (Bowie Kuhn) and a long list of mediocrities, most of whose HOF cases, if you could call them that, rested on high batting averages in an era of high batting averages (Lloyd Waner, Rick Ferrell and Freddie Lindstrom among others). While the writers pass on the list above, they seem poised to coronate a pitcher (Jack Morris) with a 3.90 lifetime ERA and about as much value to his teams as, say, Lon Werneke. Yes, the Arkansas Hummingbird himself.
It makes you wonder why they don't just roll up the sidewalks of Cooperstown and forget it ever existed. A Baseball Hall of Fame without Pete Rose, Marvin Miller, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens is the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame without the Beatles, Rolling Stones and Bill Graham.
And yet, I don't blame the writers. They have the awesome responsibility of dissecting krill from the baleen of blue whales. No one will ever know for sure if, when and how much the needle contributed to the resumes of the aforementioned, nor if, when and how much it contributed to those whose reputations have yet been sullied. They must distinguish greatness in a swirl of uncertainty through the haze of impropriety.
If history's derision doesn't move the writers to admit a few of the behemoths perhaps a logistical problem will. A major front is brewing over the next two years that threatens ballot mayhem by 2014. This year's selections include legitimate candidates Craig Biggio, Jeff Bagwell, Tim Raines, Curt Schilling and Edgar Martinez. (Also aboard: Alan Trammel, Larry Walker and Kenny Lofton, who come up short, in my view.) Entering the ballot the following year will be Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine, Mike Mussina and Frank Thomas -- again, all worthy. With Clemens, Bonds, McGwire and Piazza, that's 13 candidates -- 14 with Sosa -- and only 10 votes per ballot. The logjam could cause serious gridlock for years. A writer with a multi-year time horizon would be well-served admitting a gaggle of those eligible.
Whatever the writers decide today will be fodder for their 2062 brethren, who are likely to sniff the dominance of Bonds, Clemens and their ilk and wonder what their progenitors were smoking. BBWAA, you've had your warning, which is more than Ray Mancini got.
02 December 2012
More Fun With the Projector
Do you fantasize about Paul Goldschmidt's 2013 longball contributions to your keeper league team? Is Trevor Plouffe's second-year power surge and position flexibility dancing in your Hot Stove dreams? Are you dying to see the gauge on Andy Pettite's gas tank?
Then it's time to talk more projections. Bill James is out with the first set and there's plenty to feast on. First, if you haven't read the rules of the road, they're here. Keep in mind that making predictions is easy; getting them right is hard. (Besides, these aren't predictions, they're projections. Stalagmite, stalactite.)
So let's peek ahead at what's in store for a handful of intriguing players for 2013.
Ichiro Suzuki
2010 .315/.359/.394
2011 .272/.310/.335
2012 .283/.307/.390
2013 .294/331/.370
Ichiro is the only 39-year-old on the planet projected for a bounce-back. That's due in large part to his second-half burst with the Yankees last season (.322/.340/.454) and in part to the assumption that he'll be leading off with Murder's Row behind him in the Bronx's Offense Smiley Face Stadium.
Justin Morneau
2010 .345/.437/.618, 18 homers in 81 games
2011 .227/.285/.333, 4 homers in 69 games
2012 .267/.333/.440, 19 homers in 134 games
2013 .271/.348/.459, 21 homers in 137 games
Multiple concussions derailed a near-great career but Morneau quietly rebounded last year with a nearly full season. His on-base and slugging skills have not returned with him though, leaving him a below-average first-baseman. James's projection tools suggest, alas, that Morneau has roughly found his new level.
Carl Crawford
2010 .307/.356/.495, 47 steals
2011 .255/.289/.405, 18 steals
2012 .282/.306/.479, 5 steals (31 games)
2013 .274/.318/.413, 36 steals
Before Dodger fans jump out their windows over this desultory projection, they should remember that this is a repeat of Crawford's 2008 in St. Petersburg when the Rays went to the World Series. In offense-crushing Chavez Ravine, this is more faint praise than damning and if any part of the equation rests on Crawford's rehabbing elbow then better days may lie ahead. That's important to L.A. because he's signed to a king's ransom through his 36th birthday in 2017.
Starlin Castro
2011 .307/.341/.432, 10 homers, nine triples, 35 BB, 96 K, 22/9 in steals
2012 .283/.323/.430, 14 homers, 12 triples, 36 BB, 100 K, 25/13 in steals
2013 .304/.346/.448, 12 homers, 10 triples, 38 BB, 86 K, 24/12 in steals
If this looks familiar it's because it's Alfonso Soriano's early career: a speedy, undisciplined middle infielder with good bat control and occasional pop. The question for the Castro is whether he develops his power or some discipline, or optimally, both. James's system has the arrow pointing towards an uptick in strike zone aptitude, which will be necessary if BABIP ever turns on the Cubs' shortstop. This is a guy with high potential for turning the corner to super-stardom or face-planting on a sub-.300 OBP and an impatient manager.
Paul Goldschmidt
2011 .250/.333/.474, 8 homers in 48 games
2012 .286/.359/.490, 20 homers in 145 games
2013 .283/.375/.501, 27 homers in 153 games
Well, since you asked. While you were busy watching amateurs croon and celebrities prance on your home glow box, this 230-pound first baseman authored an adept first chapter in MLB. With just 177 plate appearances in his rearview, Goldschmidt gave Arizona a batting line 23% above average and 3.7 wins above replacement. The projector suggests that Goldschmidt is on his way to becoming a "Three True Outcomes" player who fans, walks and wallops homers at high rates. (Think Adam Dunn, Mark Reynolds.) When guys like that hit .283 they're major contributors.
We'll take a few more strolls through this meadow over the course of the long baseball-less winter.
Then it's time to talk more projections. Bill James is out with the first set and there's plenty to feast on. First, if you haven't read the rules of the road, they're here. Keep in mind that making predictions is easy; getting them right is hard. (Besides, these aren't predictions, they're projections. Stalagmite, stalactite.)
So let's peek ahead at what's in store for a handful of intriguing players for 2013.
Ichiro Suzuki
2010 .315/.359/.394
2011 .272/.310/.335
2012 .283/.307/.390
2013 .294/331/.370
Ichiro is the only 39-year-old on the planet projected for a bounce-back. That's due in large part to his second-half burst with the Yankees last season (.322/.340/.454) and in part to the assumption that he'll be leading off with Murder's Row behind him in the Bronx's Offense Smiley Face Stadium.
Justin Morneau
2010 .345/.437/.618, 18 homers in 81 games
2011 .227/.285/.333, 4 homers in 69 games
2012 .267/.333/.440, 19 homers in 134 games
2013 .271/.348/.459, 21 homers in 137 games
Multiple concussions derailed a near-great career but Morneau quietly rebounded last year with a nearly full season. His on-base and slugging skills have not returned with him though, leaving him a below-average first-baseman. James's projection tools suggest, alas, that Morneau has roughly found his new level.
Carl Crawford
2010 .307/.356/.495, 47 steals
2011 .255/.289/.405, 18 steals
2012 .282/.306/.479, 5 steals (31 games)
2013 .274/.318/.413, 36 steals
Before Dodger fans jump out their windows over this desultory projection, they should remember that this is a repeat of Crawford's 2008 in St. Petersburg when the Rays went to the World Series. In offense-crushing Chavez Ravine, this is more faint praise than damning and if any part of the equation rests on Crawford's rehabbing elbow then better days may lie ahead. That's important to L.A. because he's signed to a king's ransom through his 36th birthday in 2017.
Starlin Castro
2011 .307/.341/.432, 10 homers, nine triples, 35 BB, 96 K, 22/9 in steals
2012 .283/.323/.430, 14 homers, 12 triples, 36 BB, 100 K, 25/13 in steals
2013 .304/.346/.448, 12 homers, 10 triples, 38 BB, 86 K, 24/12 in steals
If this looks familiar it's because it's Alfonso Soriano's early career: a speedy, undisciplined middle infielder with good bat control and occasional pop. The question for the Castro is whether he develops his power or some discipline, or optimally, both. James's system has the arrow pointing towards an uptick in strike zone aptitude, which will be necessary if BABIP ever turns on the Cubs' shortstop. This is a guy with high potential for turning the corner to super-stardom or face-planting on a sub-.300 OBP and an impatient manager.
Paul Goldschmidt
2011 .250/.333/.474, 8 homers in 48 games
2012 .286/.359/.490, 20 homers in 145 games
2013 .283/.375/.501, 27 homers in 153 games
Well, since you asked. While you were busy watching amateurs croon and celebrities prance on your home glow box, this 230-pound first baseman authored an adept first chapter in MLB. With just 177 plate appearances in his rearview, Goldschmidt gave Arizona a batting line 23% above average and 3.7 wins above replacement. The projector suggests that Goldschmidt is on his way to becoming a "Three True Outcomes" player who fans, walks and wallops homers at high rates. (Think Adam Dunn, Mark Reynolds.) When guys like that hit .283 they're major contributors.
We'll take a few more strolls through this meadow over the course of the long baseball-less winter.
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