Rod Barajas's Career Thrown Out

Since the Pirates cut him in the off-season, veteran backstop Rod Barajas has been seeking employment. He might want to check the classifieds.

At 250 pounds, Barajas's best production at the plate currently involves the dinner table. He hit just .206/.283/.343 in 104 games last year, but that's probably not what's keeping him from finding MLB work. Barajas has pounded 16+ homers four times and slugged .400+ most of his 13-year career.

The problem with hiring Rod Barajas to be your team's catcher, or back-up catcher, or seventh string catcher, is his catching. Or more accurately, his throwing. 

Last season, Rod Barajas threw out six baserunners attempting to steal. The other 93 were successful.

That's right, 15 out of every 16 would-be base stealers . . . did. 

No one ever accused Barajas of illegal possession of a firearm when he squatted. Even in his prime, no one confused him with Ivan Rodriguez and his 50% caught stealing percentage, though he has a lifetime 31% caught stealing rate, which is about league-average. And some of the trouble might be an inability of Pirate hurlers to hold runners.

Nonetheless, a six percent throw out rate is historically bad. Worst since 1956. And if you want to blame the Pittsburgh pitchers for throwing slow and sloppy, credit them for two of Barajas's six caught stealings. Twice Pirate pitchers picked off the base runner while Barajas was behind the plate, accruing a CS in his column.

Now if you accept the premise that in the current run-scoring environment a stolen base is worth on average about .3 runs and a caught stealing is worth about .7 runs, then runners gained about 24 runs, or about three wins, by the commission of thievery against Pirate pitchers on those occasions when the big Californian was their battery mate. 

If a replacement level backstop nails a third of the runners, they gain, in the aggregate, nothing.

Which means Rod Barajas cost his team three losses compared to a replacement receiver simply on that one aspect of the game. He might be the best handler of pitchers, caller of pitches and framer of strike zones in the long, storied history of baseball. He might sell programs before the game, help the grounds crew pull out the tarp during rain delays and entertain fans between innings. But he's still not overcoming 93 of 99 stolen bases. 

Considering he's a jalopy on the basepaths, a nearly automatic out with the bat and of lengthening tooth, it's easy to see why his big league days may have withered.

To console him, he's got the memory of 1000 games behind the plate, 136 lifetime homers, an '01 Diamondbacks World Series ring and $19 million in career earnings. 

Thanks for playing Rod and enjoy your consolation prize. Just be careful it doesn't get stolen!