If you watched the All-Star Game, you saw the moundsman who last year didn't even give up anything to the opposition for Lent allow a pair of runs and absorb the loss. Because the All-Star Game is an exhibition asymptotic to not mattering at all, no one could accuse him of choking in a big moment. In fact, he was responsible for the loss in a meaningless contest.
On the other hand, when he allowed a couple of ill-timed home runs in the playoffs last year, the prevailing narrative was that he "isn't a big-time pitcher" or "isn't a great post-season pitcher" or whatever colloquialisms get spewed to indicate transparent nonsense.
Compared to his regular season, when he went 21-3, 1.77 and led the NL in basically everything that mattered, Clayton Kershaw could hardly have measured up in the playoffs. In fact, other than the home runs, Kershaw was the same magician in the post-season, fanning 19 and walking two. (I recognize that I've just made an "other than that Mrs. Lincoln" kind of statement, but it's relevant to understand that over 12 innings the result of three pitches can get exaggerated.)
Making matters worse, the Claw was being compared to Madison Bumgarner, who got filthier in the playoffs than Pig Pen. Leading the Giants nearly single-handedly through the playoffs to a World Series championship, MadBum's six starts and one long relief appearance stand in contrast to Kershaw's struggles.
But maybe you've noticed, those struggles have continued in 2015, at least relative to Kershaw's previous four Cy Young seasons. He's halfway through his worst full season, with the lowest ERA+ (i.e., relative to league average) since his rookie campaign.
Would you like to guess why that is? Right: his home run rate has doubled. He's dominating batters in every other way just as he had the previous two seasons, but Mr. Big Fly has already visited him more times this season than all of last. That's led to more crossings of the plate than all of last year, which makes him look a lot more human.
So here's the big reveal: Clayton Kershaw didn't become a different pitcher in last year's playoffs. He started to become a different pitcher then and has continued that way this season. Despite his pinpoint control and knee-buckling curve, he's lost that patina of invincibility, either because he's doing something different or because batters have adjusted in some small way to him. He's still an ace, an All-Star, a Cy Young candidate, but he's not the undisputed best in the game, at least not now.
So, there goes the idiotic narrative -- based on two starts! -- that Clayton Kershaw is a great regular season pitcher, but not the guy you'd want in a big game.
Showing posts with label choke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label choke. Show all posts
18 July 2015
07 January 2009
Choke On This: #2 In A Series
In 2002, Barry Bonds won his fifth MVP award with one of the greatest batting years of all time. He hit .370/.582/.799, earned a record 198 walks and smashed 46 home runs. He even stole 9 of 11 bases while leading the Giants to the World Series.
In a six game series, Bonds hit a paltry .125/.364/.188 with no home runs or RBIs. He made an error in the field. His team lost four of the six games. Is that because he's not clutch? Did he succumb to pressure? Did he fail to -- I love this one -- step up?
But wait. That wasn't his World Series; this stretch of games came at the end of April. Even in what might have been the greatest batting year of all time, Bonds had some stretches when he didn't hit real well. Sometimes you're the windshield; sometimes you're the bug.
No one would accuse Bonds of choking just because he endured a six-game skid in April. But shift that week to mid-October and all of a sudden we feel empowered to ascribe all kinds of personal characteristics to the batter. I suspect there are players who crack in the limelight, but we can't tell that by a couple of bad playoff rounds.
Early in Bonds' career, critics did brand him a choker. He hit .196 in his first four playoff series, all of which his team lost. That talk evaporated when he cracked eight home runs, walked 35 times and knocked in 18 runs in his next four series, leading the Giants to the World Series in '02. Apparently he started to catch his breath.
Some radical number crunchers argue the idea of clutch is complete hokum because all MLB players have excelled in key situations through all their years of playing ball. This strikes me as almost equally fatuous as the prevailing wisdom. With the chips on the line -- really on the line -- how can it not be possible that some athletes focus better while others lose their nerve? How can human psychology be a factor in every other endeavor in life except baseball?
Reggie Jackson and Alex Rodriguez are the exemplars of the theory of clutch. Reggie's attention seemed to ebb and flow during the long season, but come October he really did appear to dig in. Conversely, ARod doesn't just have a history of gagging, it's apparent that he's trying too hard. Ever since he signed the big contract with the Rangers, he's clearly been trying to please everyone. So far only Madonna is satisfied.
I guess that makes me a clutch Agnostic. I believe there are rare instances of players who are eager (or anxious) to have the game or season in their hands, but performance alone -- particularly over a handful of games or at bats -- provides very little evidence of it, and is almost always a function of something else.
By the way, on the subject of clutch, which of these players is the guy you want in October?
Player A .309/.377/.469, 16 SB/4 CS
Player B .316/.387/.458, 22 SB/6 CS
They look like almost exactly the same player, don't they? It's because they are. Player A is Derek Jeter in 123 games of postseason play. Player B is Derek Jeter in 1,985 games of his 14 year career. If you can see "clutch" in there, you have better eyesight than I have.
In a six game series, Bonds hit a paltry .125/.364/.188 with no home runs or RBIs. He made an error in the field. His team lost four of the six games. Is that because he's not clutch? Did he succumb to pressure? Did he fail to -- I love this one -- step up?
But wait. That wasn't his World Series; this stretch of games came at the end of April. Even in what might have been the greatest batting year of all time, Bonds had some stretches when he didn't hit real well. Sometimes you're the windshield; sometimes you're the bug.
No one would accuse Bonds of choking just because he endured a six-game skid in April. But shift that week to mid-October and all of a sudden we feel empowered to ascribe all kinds of personal characteristics to the batter. I suspect there are players who crack in the limelight, but we can't tell that by a couple of bad playoff rounds.
Early in Bonds' career, critics did brand him a choker. He hit .196 in his first four playoff series, all of which his team lost. That talk evaporated when he cracked eight home runs, walked 35 times and knocked in 18 runs in his next four series, leading the Giants to the World Series in '02. Apparently he started to catch his breath.
Some radical number crunchers argue the idea of clutch is complete hokum because all MLB players have excelled in key situations through all their years of playing ball. This strikes me as almost equally fatuous as the prevailing wisdom. With the chips on the line -- really on the line -- how can it not be possible that some athletes focus better while others lose their nerve? How can human psychology be a factor in every other endeavor in life except baseball?
Reggie Jackson and Alex Rodriguez are the exemplars of the theory of clutch. Reggie's attention seemed to ebb and flow during the long season, but come October he really did appear to dig in. Conversely, ARod doesn't just have a history of gagging, it's apparent that he's trying too hard. Ever since he signed the big contract with the Rangers, he's clearly been trying to please everyone. So far only Madonna is satisfied.
I guess that makes me a clutch Agnostic. I believe there are rare instances of players who are eager (or anxious) to have the game or season in their hands, but performance alone -- particularly over a handful of games or at bats -- provides very little evidence of it, and is almost always a function of something else.
By the way, on the subject of clutch, which of these players is the guy you want in October?
Player A .309/.377/.469, 16 SB/4 CS
Player B .316/.387/.458, 22 SB/6 CS
They look like almost exactly the same player, don't they? It's because they are. Player A is Derek Jeter in 123 games of postseason play. Player B is Derek Jeter in 1,985 games of his 14 year career. If you can see "clutch" in there, you have better eyesight than I have.
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