The Dying Gasp of the Luddites

If you're wondering what kind of impact new analytics are having on the baseball landscape, I commend to your attention this dying gasp of Luddite literature from Paul Daugherty of the Cincinnati Enquirer. His half-hearted attempt to wish away knowledge is an ode to new analysis in its way. So tepid and conditional are his objections that we're left to conclude the argument may finally be over.

You can read his diatribe yourself, but I'll summarize it here:

• Baseball stats can't measure professionalism. No, they measure results.
• Some new stats, like Deserved Run Average, are complicated and I don't understand them, so they must be useless. When's the last time you measured ERA yourself?
• The number crunchers think digits can replace eyeballs. Show us the guy.
• A new measuring tool only measures what it measures, so it must be useless. There go all stats.
• If a new measuring tool tells you what you already believe, who needs it. If it contradicted what you believed you'd similarly scoff.

This is now the state of discourse from the hidebound. Notice that Daugherty admits new numbers have their place. Notice that he recognizes all front offices have had to adopt advanced metrics or preside over withering franchises.

But also notice that old false dichotomy between measuring performance and watching games. Would the seamhead who disputes the value of visiting the ballpark please identify himself, because I can't find him. This straw man argument forms the bedrock of most anti-progress rants, as if SABR rattlers are walking the countryside like Johnny Saberseed planting the notion that numbers can capture all the nuance of the game.

But numbers can tell you this: for all his professionalism, Marlon Byrd is batting .212 and playing a low-value defensive position (left field). We could watch Byrd and agree that he's a good guy, a hard worker and a positive influence on his teammates. But we'd also notice that Father Time has taken a chisel to his skills, and left the Reds with an out machine.

His objections amount to a surrender, really. It's like the last wail of an infant before they go back to sleep. The innumerate want to register their discomfort one last time before the next BABIP discussion.

Sorry, Paul, to burden you with added insight into the game, with better predictive tools, with interesting information about plays and players. You're free to ignore all that while you watch a .212 hitter hustle. Say hi to Fred and Wilma for us back in Bedrock.