23 November 2014

What's the Big Deal About $325 Million?

If you're old enough to recall when the baseball free agent floodgates opened and Catfish Hunter snagged a mammoth five-year. $4.25 million deal from the Yankees, your mind is likely long beyond boggled by the contracts today that sound like they are paid in Lira. 

Regardless, a third of a billion dollars seems like a windfall, even for a talent as immense as Giancarlo Stanton. The Marlin rightfielder has, by age 24, already slugged 154 homers and accounted for 18 wins against replacement. But Giancarlo Stanton's talent is a windfall for Miami, as are his electric smile and dedication to the craft.

The fact is, $325 million makes perfect sense for this unique player; indeed, it might prove to be too little. Unlike other recent examples of overpayment, this one does not reward the athlete primarily for his past accomplishments or saddle the team with his salary well into his dotage. 

Moreover, while the deal is back-loaded the way others are, it is so for a reason: Stanton isn't afforded free agency for three more years, so his contract value is significantly reduced until after the 2017 season.

In year four of the new deal, Stanton will make $25 million. That's an enormous sum, and an enormous sum less than what he is probably going to be worth to the Marlins. Seriously.

Today, a win above replacement is worth, on average, about $6 million to a team. Even if salaries don't continue to increase at the past decade's rate, a 10% annual hike will catapult a win's annual value to $8 million. Let's suppose Stanton delivers just five wins above replacement that season -- significantly less than 2014's production -- he will cover his salary plus another $15 million for the franchise. If instead he improves, he's a gold mine to the team.

But wait, there's more. Giancarlo Stanton has value beyond the field of play. Inking him to a long-term deal was management's clarion call to the fans and other free agents that it has entered another of its periodic win-now spasms. Buy tickets, consider us in free agency; Miami is relevant again.

Come 2015 and beyond, Stanton will anchor a squad awash in nascent talent. Phenom starter Jose Fernandez will be back from TJ surgery at the ripe age of 23, along with promising 25-year-olds Henderson Alvarez and Jarred Cosart.  Talented outfielders Christian Yelich and Marcel Ozuna will be 23 and 24 respectively. Jarrod Saltamalachia will turn 30 -- and so shouldn't be trusted -- but is signed for two years to anchor the backstop position. If the farm continues to produce as expected and Miami can lure a player or two to South Beach -- how hard can that be, especially in an industry loaded with Latinos? -- fat crowds and TV contracts will dwarf Stanton's contract.

The formula is the same into his 30s, when the salaries escalate to $32 million. By then, the Trouts, Harpers, Kershaws and their ilk will make such sums look quaint. And then as Stanton's skills erode, so does his salary, down to $25 million at age 38.

The fact is, rich as this arrangement is for Giancarlo, it is even better for Miami -- the franchise, the people and the city. Even the 2020 player opt-out, seen by many as a fly in the ointment, keeps this mega-talent in the city for six more years at below-market prices. If he leaves then for yet fatter paychecks it will demonstrate that the numbers, now considered by some a vast overpay, weren't big enough.

20 November 2014

We Interrupt This Program for Mike Trout

That Albert Einstein feller was good at physics. The world was aware of this before the Nobel Prize committee tapped him in 1921. Likewise, this Mike Trout dude can play baseball. You probably noticed before the 2014 MVP was bestowed, unanimously, upon him.

Trout is 23. He's three years younger than Jacob deGrom, whose Rookie of the Year trophy still looks nice on his mantle. deGrom's three wins against replacement place him just 25 short of Trout's 28.

Here is a list of Major League Baseball performers with fewer career WAR than Mike Trout:
  • Paul Konerko
  • Hal McRae
  • Billy Wagner
  • Alfonso Soriano
  • Mo Vaughn
  • Clete Boyer
  • Prince Fielder
  • Chris Chambliss
  • Mike Cuellar
  • Benito Santiago
Here's the fun part: 2014 was Trout's worst season. In his worst season, he led the league in runs, RBIs and total bases, slugged 36 homers, batted 35 points above league average, ran the bases like a fiend and leaped tall buildings in a single bound.

2014 lagged offensively. Teams averaged a meager 4.18 runs per game. In 2007, teams averaged 4.95 runs. According to Grant Bisbee of SB Nation, converting Trout's season to 2007 terms gives us the following:
  • Trout pounds out a 42-143-.321 Triple Crown line.
  • He smacks 46 doubles and 11 triples.
  • He scores 148 times.
  • He posts a 1.044 OPS.
  • In the worst year of his career.
  • Wait 'til he improves.
This concludes this test of the Mike Trout broadcasting system. If Mike Trout had actually improved in 2014, you would have been instructed where to tune in your area for news and official information. Now back to our regularly scheduled programming...

19 November 2014

Are the Post-Season Awards A Sign We're All Growing Up?

The post-season awards in baseball have served as an occasion to highlight the chasm between advanced baseball analytics and the sports' hidebound writers, broadcasters and self-proclaimed cognoscenti. 

This year, however, there's not much opportunity for that. For one thing, the gap is narrowing. Sports media have adopted, to a greater or lesser degree, OPS and WAR, and while they continue to cling to pitching wins, seem to understand better the need to examine the larger picture when examining player performance.

In addition, several of the big awards seemed predestined, as if Martin Luther himself had cast a ballot. For example, Clayton Kershaw, already the best pitcher on the planet, turned it up a notch in '14. Even statheads can't argue with 21-3, 1.77 and 11 strikeouts per nine innings, particularly when he posts a league-leadoing 7.5 WAR despite missing the first month of the season.

And Mike Trout, the MVP-in-waiting, led his league in runs, RBIs and total bases while clubbing 36 home runs and playing a premier defensive position. He, too, paced the circuit in WAR with 7.9. Setting aside the argument whether pitchers should compete for a second award, these two were the clear MVP champs.

Likewise Rookie of the Year, where Jose Abreu and Jacob deGrom ran away with the hardware, or Kershaw at Cy Young, a conclusion so obvious it could less be said to be foregone than fifteengone. Only AL Cy Young was up for discussion, with Cory Kluber squeaking by Felix Hernandez.

Parsing the two was an academic exercise -- they posted similar won-loss records, innings pitched and runs allowed. King Felix allowed fewer baserunners; Kluber fanned more. Hernandez suffered from King Felix fatigue among the voters, and also from the legitimate belief that Cleveland is a tougher place to pitch than Seattle. If that was the finger on the scale provided Kluber's margin of victory, bully for the voters.

That there is a manager of the year award is a testament to writers' overblown self-importance; they can't possibly know which managers are best. That said, Buck Showalter seems a reasonable choice given his previous performance and his team's unexpected accomplishments. Matt Williams seems like an odd choice in the NL both because the Nats were generally considered the best team and because many observers view him as a work in progress. Perhaps most damning of all is Ned Yost's third place finish in the AL: his play-calling has come under withering criticism from knowledgeable analysts.

But that's the point about managers, isn't it? In-game strategy is much less important than in-clubhouse moral-building, and that's the part of the game even sportswriters generally don't see. Which is why the award is nonsense no matter who votes on it.

16 November 2014

Where Have All the Hall of Famers Gone?

My friends and I used to play a game that went like this: If they retired today, which current Major Leaguers would be in the Hall of Fame. In the previous decade, the number ran towards 20 -- Maddux, Glavine, Smoltz, Randy Johnson, Bonds, McGwire, Pedro, Manny, Pudge, ARod, Clemens, Frank Thomas and so on.

Try that game today. With Jeter retired, the sure picks left are ARod, Ichiro, Miggy and Prince Albert. (I'm ignoring the steroids conundrum.) Robby Cano's getting close but he probably has work to do. The Trouts and Kershaws of the world may be destined, but patience, grasshopper. 

You could make a case, albeit a losing one, for Adrian Beltre, Carlos Beltran and David Ortiz. Beltran's case requires appreciation for sustained very good play over a long time. Ortiz needs help from the "clutch leader" narrative because his greatness, dramatic though it's been, started too late to craft a Hall resume. 

As for pitchers, there aren't any far along the pipeline. The top hurlers by wins against replacement are Tim Hudson, Mark Buehrle, CC Sabathia and Johan Santana. None of them is close to the standards set for Cooperstown.

We can certainly dream on a clutch of players. Posey, Mauer, King Felix, Evan Longoria, Joey Votto, Tulo, Verlander, 'Cutch, Bryce Harper, Giancarlo, MadBum, etc. But we remember Dwight Gooden, Nomar Garciaparra and their ilk, who exploded like meteors and burned out quickly well short of enshrinement.

In case you're wondering, the dearth of greats is indicative of nothing. These things come in waves and the most recent wave has passed. Fear not: the next one is already gathering.

29 October 2014

I Love You, Game Seven

Besides "I love you" are there any better words than "World Series Game Seven"?

Now tonight is a pivotal game.

26 October 2014

Wait, Whose Turn Is It To Panic?

Remember when the Giants emerged victorious from Game One of the World Series to steal away the home field advantage?

Talk was rampant about how the magic show was over for Kansas City. Because the winner of Game One wins 116% of all playoff series.

Then the Royals grabbed Game Two and cosmic balance was restored. Funny how life can turn on a single game. 

After KC took Game Three, in San Francisco no less, the panic mode was switched to the Giants' side of the ledger. Home field was back in Missouri. The jitters started in California, and not because of a temblor. It was because the Game Three winner in a one-one series emerges victorious 124% of the time.

You heard the serious discussion about scrapping San Fran's rotation and pitching Madison Bumgarner on three days rest in Game Four and Game Seven. How else would the Giants defeat mighty Jason Vargas?

Bumgarner is 25. In five Major League seasons and 159 starts, he's never pitched on three days rest. Fortunately for West Bay fans, Bruce Bochy has a less active emotional metabolism. He let the panic consume sports talk radio nation while he calmly put Ryan Vogelsong on the hill.

Now with the Series squared at two, and seemingly headed for seven, Game Five is being called "pivotal." I've seen and heard that very word used four times in 12 hours. The winner of Game Five claims the crown 133% of the time, you know. But whoever pivots can pivot back after a day of travel. Someone will win Game Five and go up 3-2. Then someone will win Game Six. That might be the other team, after which the winner of Game Five will cease to matter in the sense that only Game Seven will.

By Game Seven the hyperbole will have been exhausted. The urge to over-state its importance will crash ironically into its actual import. Because the Game Seven winner dogpiles at the mound 100% of the time. And a broken clock is right twice a day.

25 October 2014

Grounding Out Makes Him the Star of the Game

The Associated Press has a formula for writing news and sports stories that allows random monkeys to hew to their standards, low expectations being the key to happiness.

This formula requires in part that the story lead summarize the event before backtracking later with details. This allows subscribers to edit the story at the beginning and yet maintain the essense.

In baseball game write-ups, the formula evidently requires the writer to acknowledge the go-ahead RBI, however and whenever it is recorded.

It appears there is no adult supervision at AP to recognize when this formula is transparent tripe. To wit, the write-up of last night's Game Three Royals victory:

Lorenzo Cain knocked in a first-inning run and Jeremy Guthrie pitched shutout ball into the sixth to lead Kansas City to a 3-2 victory and a 2-1 World Series lead.

Here's some other information you might find relevant:
1. Lorenzo Cain grounded out with a runner on third. Apparently how that runner came to be so easily transported home (a lead-off double) or who achieved it (Alcides Escobar) did not merit mention. Because RBIs are king. 
2. The false shrine of the RBI was discredited by Bill James six years before the Royals won their only World Series, 29 years ago. The AP never wrote up that story.
3. Jeremy Guthrie pitched five shutout innings; however, in the sixth he was gassed. He allowed a run, left a pair of baserunners and caught a major break when Mike Morse's 900-foot blast curved foul. 
4. Guthrie did not strike out a batter during his appearance but did benefit from several sterling defensive plays by the Royals' remarkable outfield.
5. Guthrie forced his bullpen to pitch four frames and failed to record a "quality start." 

And according to the AP, whose cancer metastasizes to nearly every newspaper in America, those were the stars of the game. Sheesh.

22 October 2014

World Series Notes That No One Is Noting

Repose or Oxidation
The question in my newspaper on the eve of the World Series was: are five days off rest or rust? It's an apt question. The research suggests it's more rust than rest, particularly for batters and fielders. Add in uncooperative nighttime weather and you may want to shield your eyes while you watch.

Another question making the rounds: If the Giants win their third World Series in five years are they a dynasty? Are you kidding? How can a team that wasn't among the eight best in baseball one year or among the 10 best two years later (in fact, they were 10 games under .500 in 2013) be a dynasty in those years? The Giants couldn't make a credible case that they were the best team in baseball any of the three seasons in which fate smiled upon them and they emerged from the playoff scrum.

In the years when the league champ over the season's marathon earned a World Series berth, or even in the nascent years of playoffs, World Series appearances were marks of a dynasty. 

Today, the standard for the post-season has been demoted from excellence to goodness, with lucky breaks and a timely performances paving the way to the Series. It's nearly impossible to cobble a dynasty out of that.

I'd cast my ballot for the Yankees' run of playoff appearances long before I'd consider what San Fransisco has done the last five years.

Some Royal Pain
Sure, Kansas City swept away their foes en route to the title series, but seven of those eight games -- including four extra inning affairs -- could have turned the other way on one play here or there. It just wasn't that surprising that they lost Game One of the Series.

A Giant Pain
That said, it's just a game. Anyone quoting the statistic that the Game One winner has taken 15 of the last 17 Series needs their lobotomy reversed. It's just one game. KC wins Game Two and we're back to square one.

I like how calm Joe Panick is.

19 October 2014

Official World Series Preview

Here is the most honest World Series preview you're going to read.

I have no idea who is going to win the World Series or in how many games, and neither does anyone else, even The Amazing Kreskin. The two teams are equally unexceptional in terms of their demonstrated abilities over 162 games, but even that is of little value in a seven-game series. The home field "advantage" is not worth dignifying with a mention. It hasn't worked for Ukraine.

One thing I know for sure is that the Royals' eight-game winning streak and the Giants' 2010 and 2012 world championships will play utterly no role in the next seven contests. Past performance does not guarantee future results.

Newspapers like to run position-by-position comparisons, assigning an edge to the corresponding team at each position, then adding it up and predicting a winner. It's a fun exercise the same way that hanging upside down from the monkey bars is a fun exercise. Neither tells us anything useful.

Kansas City clearly has the superior bullpen. It could blow up like a grenade in the Series. San Francisco has more power. The lights could go out for them starting Tuesday. The Royals' formula is six solid innings from the starter, three shutdown frames of relief, good defense and a few well-timed hits further leveraged with speed. The formula produced 73 losses this season and could go awry at any moment.

The Giants rely on big arms from the rotation and above-average hitting from every starter in the lineup. They've ridden that to four more losses than wins since June 1.

The Royals' are paced by outfielder Alex Gordon, starter James Shields and relievers Greg Holland, Wade Davis and Kelvin Herrera. The Giants' feature catcher Buster Posey, outfielder Hunter Pence, and starters Madison Bumgarner and Tim Hudson. Yet they are playing for the championship because of star turns by the likes of Lorenzo Cain, Travis Ishikawa and Mike Moustakas.

The MVP of the World Series will be someone on the winning team's roster. Probably a regular. Beyond that, you, Gumby and Winnie the Pooh are equally likely to guess correctly.

Whatever justifications you hear analysts provide for assigning one team or another an edge is transparent hokum. KC's youth and enthusiasm; SF's experience on the big stage; speed and defense; power pitching and the long ball -- they are all futile attempts to make sense of the unpredictable.

It's a fun match-up with a clear fan favorite, which will certainly not reveal baseball's best team in 2014. Let's skip the worthless prognostications and enjoy it for what it is.

17 October 2014

Why Playoffs Narratives Are Steaming Piles of Pooh

"All good writing is storytelling."

The challenge for TV networks introducing playoff baseball to America is how to leverage six months of games into a compelling backstory and then pivot to a new narrative as the postseason games play out.

For television is all about story-telling. The baseball playoffs -- indeed any tournament -- is just a collection of games absent the organizing narrative. It's those stories, in fact, that drive interest in Olympic sports like the javelin throw, biathlon, bobseld and other competitions that we never watch otherwise. The stories tell us why we should care, whom we should root for and how it all fits together.

Without narratives, the broadcasts are not possible. And therein lies the rub.

As we have established with painful repetition, baseball's playoffs are largely random at either the game or the series level. The better starting pitcher confers a shockingly microscopic advantage, and the better team over 162 games, even with an ostensible home field edge, doesn't seem to win with any regularity.  Mike Trout resembles Mario Mendoza's little brother. Lorenzo Cain channels Willie Mays. And so on.

So the narratives, for the most part, have to be invented. The Royals are a team of destiny. The great Clayton Kershaw "can't win the big one." The Giants are "clutch." Adam Wainwright is a "big game pitcher."

How else to explain why all the best teams are at home while the hitless wonders from KC play their fellow Wild Card rep from San Fran in the Series? How else to make sense of two 88-win teams squaring off for the title, particularly when the Giants played below .500 after the first month of the season? How else to rationalize eight straight high-wire wins for the Royals over superior teams?

But the explanations are all hooey. Both teams have simply gotten hot -- and lucky. Mike Moustakas hit .212 for the Royals and spent time in the Minors before his playoff hero turn. Travis Ishikawa was left on the trash heap by Pittsburgh this season before he smacked the walk-off pennant clincher for the Giants. It's just the way baseball is.

And despite the announcer bleatings, baseball is amoral. Winners aren't morally superior to losers, nor are those who struggle and persevere morally superior to the mega-talented. Underdogs have no claims over favorites; defense and relief pitching are not greater in God's eyes than three-run homers, if I may speak for God. Who, by the way, did not suddenly become a Kansas City Royals fan.

And now one of these teams, which have combined for 16 playoff victories in 18 tries, will suddenly lose its invincibility. The playoff slugger will lose his stroke, the base thief will meet his catching match and the big game pitcher will gack one up. And just like that, the narrative carefully cultivated for two weeks will have to change to accommodate the World Series. Moral supremacy will suddenly be seen to switch allegiances, as if it were momentum's cousin.

But no, it is, sadly, much more banal. One guy tries to hurl a sphere at high velocity with yaw and roll. Another guy tries to mash it with a wooden stick. A third guy tries to snatch it in his over-sized leather pouch and zing it to his friends. One gaggle of talented fellas will do it just a tad better than the opposing gaggle over the next seven games, though they might not have in some previous or subsequent seven. And that, at very last, is its entire significance.

11 October 2014

Looking Forward To A Retirement

During a recent meaningless end-of-season game between long-eliminated teams, the announcers embarked on a discussion of their choices for the big awards. It was the usual stuff -- should Clayton Kershaw be considered for the MVP, should Mike Stanton be dinged for his team's performance, does Robinson Cano get credit for Seattle's giant leap forward, that kind of thing.

And then came the manager of the year award. This is the hole into which baseball people pour all of their ignorance.

What ensued, as usual, was not a disposition on managers, but on the most surprising teams. The assumption is that when a team appears to outperform its talent, the manager must have been working some magic. It's the same logic by which we credit or blame the President of the United States for the state of the economy.

That dynamic led to some hysterical assertions. The in-the-stands reporter touted Buck Showalter for manager of the year because of how 31-year-old Steve Pearce contributed 10 times more wins against replacement than in his previous seven-year career, leading the O's to lay waste to the AL East. The same reporter noted how Showalter's team overcame the decline of Chris Davis, who misplaced 90 points of batting average and 27 home runs from his breakout 2013. By this logic, the skipper earns points for employing over-achievers but is not responsible for under-achievers.

The color analyst touted Ned Yost for AL manager of the year, citing the surprising rise of the Royals. Yost is generally considered one of the more daft field generals who required the intervention of George Brett and the front office to construct productive lineups. Once learned, his expertise extended to filling out the same lineup much of the season and relying on a trio of shutdown relievers to shorten each game to six innings.

I suspect that if the award were being bestowed at the end of July, the A's Bob Melvin would have run away with it, much as his Oakland squad was unexpectedly running away with the league's best record. Evidently Melvin contracted a major case of stupid, because the A's hardly won a game in August and September.

The manager of the year award is a joke and should either be retired or entrusted to managers and GMs to vote on. Sportswriters and broadcasters have little basis for choosing the best manager and have proved that time and again.

09 October 2014

Just As We Called Them...

...so after one round of the MLB playoffs, if you still don't think they're a lottery, it's time to send for the men in white coats.

Teams with three of the four best records, including the top team in each circuit, are gone, winning two games among them. The fourth team was an underdog. They swept.

Both Wild Cards moved forward, dropping one game between them.

The clubs that executed brilliant trade-deadline deals to score several of the best pitchers in baseball, stacking their starting rotations and inducing favorite status come post-season, won a grand total of zero playoff games.

The pair of AL squads with the worst records since 2000 will square off for the pennant. Neither has been to the World Series since Barak Obama was in law school.

It makes for a fun October, but it gives credence to the complaint that April through September doesn't matter.

21 September 2014

The Truth About Playoff Truths

The A's/Tigers will be dangerous in the playoffs because of their three top starters.

No, the Tigers can't win. They have no relief pitching. 

The A's have stumbled into the post-season. They're done.

The Angels are well rested. I don't see anyone beating them.

The Orioles are going to struggle because they live by the long ball. You need to manufacture runs to win against the best teams.

Washington and Anaheim are on fire going into the playoffs. I wouldn't want to play them.

The Dodgers are the favorite because they have the best pitcher, period. Great pitching beats great hitting in the post-season.

Look out for St. Louis. They've had to fight nearly to the end. They will be battle tested going into the playoffs. The same for Kansas City, Pittsburgh and San Fransisco.

No one wants to play the Giants. They have a lot of veterans with playoff experience.

You will hear these aphorisms -- and more -- as the playoffs wind into view next week. They're all commonly understood and accepted. And all but one of them sink in a sea of facts.

In one sense, the idea that any team in the tournament can win the World Series is, by definition, true. Seven game series among roughly equally-matched teams in unusual circumstances (sellout crowds, national TV audiences, extreme micro-managing, increasingly cold weather) are essentially lotteries. A good bounce here and missed call there can alter any series.

At the same time, every team is a long shot in the sense that they must win three series (and in some cases, a single elimination game) to emerge as champions. No team is so dominant that the odds favor them over everyone else. (Indeed, there has never been such a team, at least not in the playoff era.)

Beyond that, the calculations that you hear from the "analysts" are so much hoo-hah. Behold:

There is not a scintilla of evidence; not a jot; not an atom, a particle or a speck, suggesting that teams particularly imbalanced towards the top of their starting rotations perform better in the post-season than those with broader but shallower rotations. Possessing one great starter, or three, without quality behind them has not in the history of baseball delivered superior results versus those with five good but not lights-out starters, all else being equal.

Relievers actually do matter a little, says the research, but the closer and set-up man are a vastly over-rated element in the equation. Good pitching is important in every inning, and because managers manage for an edge on nearly every pitch, the bullpen takes on added importance generally. In any case, this actually does bode poorly for the Tigers.

In the great history of baseball, teams have won with small ball and large ball and welterweight ball and every combination and permutation allowed by the laws of mathematics. Winning with three-run homers has not proven to be any less dependable, nor any more, than winning with station-to-station offense.

In the 125 years our pastime has been played, the recent records of the teams entering the playoffs has not correlated in any way, shape, form or function with their performance in the playoffs. Not an iota, a smidgen or a crumb, as recent Series participants can attest. Teams' overall records do correlate, suggesting that 100-win teams are superior to 85-win teams, even "hot" ones.

An Oakland-San Francisco rematch is as plausible as a Nationals-Angels pairing, not withstanding that the former have a 50% chance of being eliminated in the play-in before the tournament begins in earnest.

Furthermore, rosters thick with wily veterans make no nevermind, according the the research. Doe-eyed youngsters perform with equal manliness to grizzled old-timers, talent being equal. Don't expect Mike Trout to stumble quivering with nerves or Raul Ibanez to suddenly bat, well, I'd say .250 is out of his range at this point.

There actually is one old wives tale that does carry some weight. Teams that have to play hard to the end actually do enjoy a small advantage over the early clinchers. Evidently, being in playoff mode for the incoming week or two keeps everyone sharp. Or anyway, that's the ex post facto explanation. Based on that, smart managers around the Beltway and SoCal should be exhorting their charges to earn the best record, or home field, or some other illusory advantage, because just battling for it confers an advantage of its own.

Keep all this in mind as the sports soothsayers justify their "predictions" with nonsense that was, once-upon-a-time, beyond disproof. But disproof has drunk its Gatorade, stolen signs and turned it on since the All-Star break. And it tells us what we should have always known: you can't predict who will win. That's why it's fun.

18 September 2014

They Thought It Was the Demented Award

News Item: Milwaukee Brewers nominate Ryan Braun for Roberto Clemente Citizenship Award.

Possible explanations:

1. The Brewers are a collection of axe murderers and baby rapists. Lyin' Ryan's the best they can do.
2. Psych!
3. Clemente used to hammer the Braves when they played in Wisconsin and this is payback.
4. Whoops, they mean Eva Braun.
5. Management in Milwaukee has a deep, abiding sense of irony.
6. They noted that "contributions to the game" had to be "positive" and applied it to urine samples.
7. They are mentally retarded.

17 September 2014

When Cheering Seems Disrespectful

Watching video of Giancarlo Stanton getting carried into an ambulance on a stretcher after suffering a fastball to the face got me thinking. Not about Milwaukee hurler Mike Fiers, who clearly wasn't trying to hurt anyone, but about the tradition of applauding when an injured player is removed from the field.

It makes sense that we cheer a player of either team who gets up and walks off after sustaining an injury. We're relieved that he will recover.


But Stanton did not get up. He did not walk off the field. He was bleeding and immobilized on the stretcher and the nature of his injuries were not at all clear. After all, a hardball crashed into his face at 88 mph -- where, exactly, no one in the ballpark could be sure.

As paramedics wheeled Stanton off the field with what appeared to be devastating injuries, the crowd began to clap. And it felt wrong.

It felt disrespectful, just the opposite of its intent.

Suppose the trauma had caused a clot in Stanton's brain and killed him. Brewer fans would have looked pretty insensitive.

So why do we do it? Are we gratified that the player has been removed, so the game -- and our entertainment -- can continue? 

Is it simply a tradition that we uphold without examination?

I don't like either of those answers. I'd like  to suggest that we distinguish between performers who have sustained superficial injuries and will be fine, from those whose careers, at the very least, are in jeopardy. Let's cheer respectfully for the first group and hold our breath respectfully for the second.

Whatta ya say, baseball fans?

15 September 2014

Let's Hear It for the Sister Kisser

It's difficult to talk NL pitching without meandering back to the subject of Clayton Kershaw, the most fearsome pitcher since Pedro Martinez. His 18-3, 1.67 performance this year is cartoonish, as is his 7.78 K/BB ratio, his .82 WHIP and his 7.4 wins against replacement despite missing the first month of the season because of injury and the last month of the season because of time travel restrictions. (That last item should be solved soon, notwithstanding Armageddon.)

Sporting his patented* knee-buckling hook, a paralyzing slider and a fastball with bite, Kershaw is 95-49, 2.48 for his career, producing more value in seven campaigns (about 40 wins) than Catfish Hunter in 15 Hall of Fame seasons. Kershaw will almost certainly win his third Cy Young in four years, a second-place finish in 2012 marring the record.

*It may not actually be patented. I'm not his lawyer. Patent may be pending.

But enough about the likely league MVP. Let's turn our gaze to the largely-forgotten sister-kisser who should finish second. 

At home in Great American Smallpark, Johnny Cueto's 18-8, 2.15 this season is noteworthy. In a hefty 222 innings he's shouldered four complete games and fanned four times as many as he's walked. His six-and-a-half wins against replacement would make Cy Young proud, had the stars not aligned to create Kershaw.
It's not like Cueto is a flash-in-the-pan. He's averaged 4.5 wins against replacement over those four years -- about the same as Max Scherzer -- despite missing most of 2012. He throws strikes, clamps down the running game, keeps the ball in the park and goes deep into games. And he's just 28.

Cueto and Adam Wainwright (18-9, 2.54) have been lost in Kershaw's shadow in 2014 but they deserve some recognition. They're both dominant hurlers in the full bloom of their talent whose careers, unfortunately for them, have coincided with the dominant mound force of their generation.

13 September 2014

Try To Remember: No Games In November

In 1965, Sandy Koufax declined to pitch the Opening game of the World Series because it was a Jewish high holiday. That was October 6th.

Next year, the World Series will still be a month away on October 6th.

This is a travesty. And it's killing baseball.

Baseball teams slog through a season of 162 games contested in the hopeful days of spring and the dog days of summer. The best clubs tame the tiger through the heat to compete for the championship as the leaves begin to turn. 

And then, with all the chips on the table, the game changes dramatically. Night games amid frost and flurries in Cleveland and Boston and Chicago* and Denver leave fans shivering in parkas and ski hats. 


It ceases to be about the best teams, but about the best foul weather teams. Who's got the hot hands when their hands are cold.

It's football weather, is what it is. Which might explain why America slumbers through the World Series. They're heavy into the pigskin season and by November that's what it feels like. For many Americans, baseball season ends when the kids return to school.

Ski areas know that business booms, not when it snows on the mountain, but when it snows in people's backyards.

For baseball, that formula is death.

12 September 2014


In the Yankees' game one tilt with the Orioles today, five Baltimore pitchers held the Bronx Bombers to a run in 11 innings. The O's won in dramatic fashion with a walkoff two run double in the bottom of the 11th.

Here's how the pitching line looked:
Kevin Gausman pitched seven shuout innings. He got no decision.
Andrew Miller fanned the three batters he faced in the eighth. He got no decision.
Darren O'Day whiffed two while blanking the Yankees in the ninth. He got no decision.
Zach Britton shut out New York in the tenth. He got no decision.
Brad Brach allowed the go-ahead run in the eleventh. He earned the victory.

Fun with pitching wins!

11 September 2014

A Verdict That's Just Pistorious

There are 52 million people in South Africa and 51,999,999 know that Olympian Oscar Pistorious murdered his girlfriend. The only person who doesn't know is the judge in the case.

In case you forgot, Pistorious is the double-amputee known as "Blade Runner" whose inspirational story and good looks had the world's heart aflutter in the 2012 Olympics when he competed in the 400-meter track event. Then he went home and shot his model girlfriend Reeva Steenkamp to death on Valentine's Day through the door of his bathroom.

Oscar Pistorius of South Africa competes at the London Olympics - August 2014The judge ruled yesterday that prosecutors had not proved intentional murder. She was unconvinced by some of the testimony suggesting Pistorious was a hothead, a gun fanatic and a serial domestic abuser. Unfortunately for her honor, the facts are persistent without those testimonies and they are these: he shot and killed her, by his own admission, with bullets designed to explode upon impact. An expert testified that the four shots, one of which missed, shattered her skull and blew up inside her body.

Pistorious claims that he thought he heard an intruder run into the bathroom. He grabbed his gun and began firing.

This is eminently plausible if you are willing to suspend disbelief that he would rise out of bed and fail to check to see if his beloved was asleep next to him.

It is eminently plausible if you are willing to suspend disbelief that he thought an intruder would run into the bathroom, and then after doing so, continue to pose a threat to the couple's security.

It is eminently plausible if you are willing to suspend disbelief that the next logical action was to fire a pistol indiscriminately rather than call police.

It is eminently plausible if you are willing to suspend disbelief that Pistorious would fire what would almost certainly be fatal shots without ever making sure that his girlfriend was safe.

And after all that, you must further ignore or disbelieve all the evidence presented by ear-witnesses about shouting before the shots were fired.

In other words, his alibi is preposterous. It's ridiculous. It is Pistorious.

This is the dumbest judicial decision I can think of since Dred Scott in 1857. Oscar Pistorious is so guilty that even the best lawyers couldn't help him concoct a marginally credible pretext for the killing. And the jurist, who rules without the aid of a jury in South Africa, is so thick she fell for it.

The judge has yet to rule on a lesser charge of manslaughter; indeed, she all but announced a conviction on that count. That certainly ameliorates the injustice and recoups a shred of her tattered credibility. But it doesn't change the facts. And they all say Oscar Pistorious is a cold-blooded murderer.

09 September 2014

The Question Not Being Asked In the Ray Rice Case

The critical question in the fiasco surrounding Baltimore Ravens' running back Ray Rice is not one of the 46 you've been hearing and reading.

The critical question is: If you were shocked by the video of Rice delivering a knockout punch to his fiancee in the elevator, what the hell is wrong with you?

After all, we already knew that Rice had knocked his fiancee unconscious. That had been established prior to NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell's laughably tone-deaf two-game suspension.

So what did you think happened in that elevator? That Rice kissed his wife too exuberantly? 

What's shocking is not that Rice's vicious punch was unusual but that it was so utterly mundane. That is what domestic abuse looks like. Did people really not know that?

In fact, Rice's abuse was relatively benign in the world of domestic abuse. After all, it consisted of a single blow, not a sustained attack.

Moreover, the release of video that vividly portrays Rice's violence primarily diminished the reputation of others, not of the football player himself. We knew what we had there -- or should have -- even without visual evidence.

The reactionary responses of Roger Goodell and the Baltimore Ravens have swathed them both in ignominy. What is eminently clear is that the league and the team are not concerned about the rampant domestic violence perpetrated by their employees but are hypocritically reacting (or pre-acting) to the ignorant public outrage they correctly expected the video would incite. (Ignorant not because outrage is unwarranted but because it was warranted absent the video.)

Remember, this is video that the league and the team either did or should have had possession of and could have obtained with little effort. Which means they either ignored it when it was known only to a handful of people or willfully avoided its acquisition knowing full well how poorly it would reflect on the game.

These are the same Ravens who welcomed back their star with open arms during the exhibition season. This is the same commissioner who imposed the same sanction on a violent criminal that he imposes on gentlemen who smoke a joint during their off-hours -- but only if it's their first offense.

And this is the same public, at least in Baltimore, that gave Rice a standing ovation when he returned to the field. A standing ovation. Nothing has changed since, except that those fans can no longer rationalize to themselves that it was just a family squabble.

To add stupid to liar, Goodell violated his own newly established penalty matrix for domestic violence, established just a week prior. Goodell had prescribed a six-game suspension for ordinary domestic violence not involving a child or a pregnant woman. This is the definition of ordinary abuse, yet Goodell suspended Rice indefinitely, with the strong suggestion that the punishment will last all year.

This is one of those cases where everyone even tangentially involved has rolled in the mud. Rice is a thug, Goodell a liar and a hypocrite, the Ravens the same, the fans boorish and self-centered, Ravens' coach John Harbaugh a mendacious, self-indulgent creep, and so on. I'm pretty sure Geraldo Rivera looks bad in all of this, though who would notice.

There's another domestic violence case on Goodell's docket, because NFL players can't go two weeks without beating the women in their thrall. There's no video on this one, at least as far as we know, so let's see how the league handles it. Nothing Goodell does will mollify anyone paying attention. He's already made such a hash of his own system that there is no longer any possibility of fairness or consistency.