Last we saw the Boston Red Sox, they had issued an historic collapse at the end of the 2011 season, fired their popular manager, replaced him with the worst hiring decision this side of Hitler's election, sowed discord in the clubhouse, endured a string of injuries, traded away several of their best players and brought up the rear in the AL East with a dismal 69-93 record.
That's the team, that team, won the 2013 World Series.
And they didn't slink into the postseason like the '06 Cardinals and then get hot for two weeks to win the championship. The 2013 Red Sox dominated baseball's toughest division, won the most games in the Majors and pounded their playoff foes.
Huh? How on Earth...?
To answer this question, only ex post facto explanations need apply. No one saw this coming. How could they?
First we have to recognize, as Boston's front office did, that this was not a 93-loss team. Injuries and throwing in the towel led to last year's results. A contending core remained.
Second, the Injury Fairy moved on. In 2013, the Sox remained unexpectedly healthy. David Ortiz swaggered to the plate 600 times. Dustin Pedroia played a full season despite flinging his body around the field. Jacoby Ellsbury continued his odd-year good health pattern. Among the 14 everyday and pitching starters, only pitcher Clay Bucholz failed to dress for a significant chunk of the season. (Of course, both closers brought in by Boston got stung. Andrew Bailey missed most of May and the entire second half; Joel Hanrahan threw seven innings before Tommy John came calling.)
Third, everyone hit. Big Papi led the way with 30 homers and a .959 OPS, but the rest of the lineup, including ostensible backups Daniel Nava, utility man Mike Carp, and even rookie shortstop Jose Iglesias, posted OPS at least 10% above league average. (GM Ben Cherrington, realizing that Iglesias was a mirage who would soon be replaced by Xander Boegarts, flipped him mid-season for prospects.) Only Will Middlebrooks and his .271 OBP faltered, and even he raised that to .329 upon returning from the Minors in August.
Fourth, a couple of key signings worked out reasonably well. Shane Victorino hit .294, stole 21 of 24 and carried a Gold Glove to rightfield. Between strikeouts, Mike Napoli pounded 23 homers and 40 doubles/triples.
Manager John Farrell brought calm to the storming clubhouse and oversaw the team's norming and performing.
And they scooped up a big heaping wad of luck in the bullpen. After Hanrahan and Bailey flamed, Farrell was forced to hand the ball to sophomore righty Junichi Tazawa, veteran southpaw Craig Breslow and 38-year-old castoff Koji Uehara. The trio put the final three innings off limits for opposing teams, with Uehara twirling 74 frames of exquisite futility. Only 43 baserunners managed to get aboard while 101 fanned against him.
Was this all a grand design by Boston brass? Not mostly. They kept their heads after handing Bobby Valentine his and brought to camp a solid nucleus, some complementary parts and a full sentence of question marks. It didn't hurt that all of Yankee Stadium, including the ball boys and Lou Gerhig's monument, got hurt in 2013, and that the Blue Jay experiment crashed like a sack of potatoes. But the real story of the 2013 World Champs is 1-9 hitting, 1-5 pitching, a shutdown bullpen and good health.
As the Red Sox showed, you can do anything if you have your health.
31 October 2013
29 October 2013
If You Think It's Over You Haven't Been Paying Attention
With the Sox of Red now ahead 3-2 in the World Series, I'm sure you've heard the following:
"Boston's one win away."
"They're going home with the lead."
"It's over."
"Cardinals would have to win two in Boston."
...and the like.
Anyone expressing these sentiments should have their junior high school diploma burned. Let's review:
The home team has lost three of five games.
The best pitcher in the series has been beaten twice.
The winning run in Game 3 scored on an esoteric rule infraction.
The hero of Game 4 was a fourth outfielder who hadn't hit safely in the Series.
Game 4 ended when a pinch runner type got himself picked off.
The hero of Game 5 was a backup catcher who was batting .111 in the Series.
The Red Sox manager blundered horribly in Game 5 by allowing his pitcher to bat with second and third, one out in the seventh inning of a 2-1 game. His team won anyway.
The World Champions, whoever that will be, must win at least one of the last two games. To do so, they will have to defeat the best team in the other league, a team stacked on the mound, in the bullpen and at the plate. You'd rather be the Sox than the Cards right now, but that could change after the first inning of Wednesday's game.
Let's instead appreciate the beauty of this World Series:
The best two teams are playing.
They are a pair of high-character teams.
They represent two great baseball cities -- maybe the best two in America (and Southeastern Canada.)
Every game but the first has been a nail-biter.
Each team has a charismatic leader -- David Ortiz and Yadier Molina.
The pitchers on both sides, nearly without exception, have mastered their craft. Nearly every pitch has creased the lower edge of the strike zone.
The fickle late-October weather has cooperated.
Two players -- Big Papi and Carlos Beltran -- are using this showcase to burnish their Hall of Fame cases.
The Fat Lady isn't even in costume. Enjoy the last day or two of the 2013 baseball year.
"Boston's one win away."
"They're going home with the lead."
"It's over."
"Cardinals would have to win two in Boston."
...and the like.
Anyone expressing these sentiments should have their junior high school diploma burned. Let's review:
The home team has lost three of five games.
The best pitcher in the series has been beaten twice.
The winning run in Game 3 scored on an esoteric rule infraction.
The hero of Game 4 was a fourth outfielder who hadn't hit safely in the Series.
Game 4 ended when a pinch runner type got himself picked off.
The hero of Game 5 was a backup catcher who was batting .111 in the Series.
The Red Sox manager blundered horribly in Game 5 by allowing his pitcher to bat with second and third, one out in the seventh inning of a 2-1 game. His team won anyway.
The World Champions, whoever that will be, must win at least one of the last two games. To do so, they will have to defeat the best team in the other league, a team stacked on the mound, in the bullpen and at the plate. You'd rather be the Sox than the Cards right now, but that could change after the first inning of Wednesday's game.
Let's instead appreciate the beauty of this World Series:
The best two teams are playing.
They are a pair of high-character teams.
They represent two great baseball cities -- maybe the best two in America (and Southeastern Canada.)
Every game but the first has been a nail-biter.
Each team has a charismatic leader -- David Ortiz and Yadier Molina.
The pitchers on both sides, nearly without exception, have mastered their craft. Nearly every pitch has creased the lower edge of the strike zone.
The fickle late-October weather has cooperated.
Two players -- Big Papi and Carlos Beltran -- are using this showcase to burnish their Hall of Fame cases.
The Fat Lady isn't even in costume. Enjoy the last day or two of the 2013 baseball year.
27 October 2013
Kill the Umpire!
Umpiring has been a central element of the 2013 World Series, but in a turnabout of the usual, it's because the umps have worked scrupulously to get it right.
In Game 1, the second base arbiter gakked up a call and was immediately over-ruled, with his consent, by his five brethren. A wrong was quickly righted and we could all move on with our lives.
With two outs in the ninth of a tied Game 3, the third base umpire immediately, forcefully and correctly called fielder interference and was supported by the plate ump. They made the call even thought the interference might have been unintentional and resulted in an awful conclusion to a scintillating game.
This is (yet) another example of how critical luck is to the outcome of any single game. Little accumulations of luck -- the hardly-noticed variety -- can literally turn a 5-3 loss into a 7-2 win. If luck can alter the outcome of one game so significantly, it's going to play an outsize role in a four-win series.
The 800-pound gorilla of luck favored the Cardinals in Game 3. Where the smaller serendipities fell, it's hard to know. (I thought a generous strike zone forced the Red Sox to swing at unhittable low and outside pitches they otherwise would have ignored. The implications of that, if correct, ripple across the entire game and swamp one game-ending play.) But the bottom line is that they're part of baseball and teams just have to try to deal with them.
Fans and analysts should read the same memo.
In Game 1, the second base arbiter gakked up a call and was immediately over-ruled, with his consent, by his five brethren. A wrong was quickly righted and we could all move on with our lives.
With two outs in the ninth of a tied Game 3, the third base umpire immediately, forcefully and correctly called fielder interference and was supported by the plate ump. They made the call even thought the interference might have been unintentional and resulted in an awful conclusion to a scintillating game.
This is (yet) another example of how critical luck is to the outcome of any single game. Little accumulations of luck -- the hardly-noticed variety -- can literally turn a 5-3 loss into a 7-2 win. If luck can alter the outcome of one game so significantly, it's going to play an outsize role in a four-win series.
The 800-pound gorilla of luck favored the Cardinals in Game 3. Where the smaller serendipities fell, it's hard to know. (I thought a generous strike zone forced the Red Sox to swing at unhittable low and outside pitches they otherwise would have ignored. The implications of that, if correct, ripple across the entire game and swamp one game-ending play.) But the bottom line is that they're part of baseball and teams just have to try to deal with them.
Fans and analysts should read the same memo.
25 October 2013
World Series Observations: Milking The Teet Dry
Conventional Wisdom
The prevailing analysis now is that St. Louis is going to win the World Series because they have three of the five games at home and Wainwright and Wacha pitch at least two of them. The prevailing analysis has apparently never watched a playoff series before.
The team that wins the World Series is the team that gets to four wins first, not the team whose pitchers had a better year or were hotter or had home field advantage. Each game is its own drama. If actual talent dictated how World Series proceed, every series would go seven games.
We Have A Winner!
When St. Louis starter Michael Wacha left Game 2 after pitching the sixth inning, his team trailed 2-1. When Boston starter John Lackey left Game 2 in the seventh, his team led 2-1. The Cards scored three runs of Red Sox relievers in the seventh, making Wacha the winner and Lackey the loser. The game summary sounded like this: Wacha beats Lackey 4-2. Goodnight everybody!
One Wrong Makes A Right
Thank you to the umpires for getting the call right in Game 1. That's all that matters: get the call right. The entire planet can see when a call is wrong on replay . . . except the umpires. A guy in Nepal watching streaming video live at 11 a.m. the next day can watch the replay, but the umpires responsible for getting the calls correct can't. Jenius!
Johnny Gomes Fairy Dust
Johnny Gomes has mysteriously become the new Derek Jeter. Evidently we have to have one. It's worse with Gomes, though, because Jeter at least has talent.
The Fox crew actually made the point that while Gomes can't hit, field, run the bases or contribute much on the diamond, he is pure magic to the Red Sox because of his bonhomie. Cincinnati, Oakland and Boston all made the playoffs because Gomes spread his good cheer around the clubhouse like so much peanut butter. That he performed below replacement level for the Reds and also played for dismal teams in Tampa and Washington, are inconvenient facts that cloudy the picture of a happy-go-lucky leprechaun spreading post-season rainbows from his pot of gold on otherwise moribund teammates.
For the record, Johnny Gomes has played parts of 11 seasons, mostly in a part-time role. He has contributed roughly five wins compared to a replacement player to his employers, or less than half a win per season. His .788 lifetime OPS is about average for an outfielder, but his glove should be euthanized for its own good. He's complemented that with a putrid .350 OPS in five playoff series (though in fairness, he barely gets playing time in those crucial games.)
Gomes isn't a bad player -- he's smacked 149 lifetime home runs -- he's just . . . a guy. No team has ever made the playoffs because Johnny Gomes wears a cape with their emblem. Quite the reverse. He's been fortunate to have some really talented colleagues the last four seasons. Let's try to keep cause and effect straight.
Oh Beautiful Say Can You See
When the series returns to Boston -- if it does -- let's hope that Red Sox brass finally hangs up the Boston Marathon pathos already. They have so milked that teet dry that they had to recycle James Taylor in Game 2, much to his confusion. The bombing was a terrible tragedy and an attack on the city, but it's half a year old. Something like 20,000 people have died in car crashes nationwide since then, roughly 3,000 of them because of morons who couldn't put down their phones.
The prevailing analysis now is that St. Louis is going to win the World Series because they have three of the five games at home and Wainwright and Wacha pitch at least two of them. The prevailing analysis has apparently never watched a playoff series before.
The team that wins the World Series is the team that gets to four wins first, not the team whose pitchers had a better year or were hotter or had home field advantage. Each game is its own drama. If actual talent dictated how World Series proceed, every series would go seven games.
We Have A Winner!
When St. Louis starter Michael Wacha left Game 2 after pitching the sixth inning, his team trailed 2-1. When Boston starter John Lackey left Game 2 in the seventh, his team led 2-1. The Cards scored three runs of Red Sox relievers in the seventh, making Wacha the winner and Lackey the loser. The game summary sounded like this: Wacha beats Lackey 4-2. Goodnight everybody!
One Wrong Makes A Right
Thank you to the umpires for getting the call right in Game 1. That's all that matters: get the call right. The entire planet can see when a call is wrong on replay . . . except the umpires. A guy in Nepal watching streaming video live at 11 a.m. the next day can watch the replay, but the umpires responsible for getting the calls correct can't. Jenius!
Johnny Gomes Fairy Dust
Johnny Gomes has mysteriously become the new Derek Jeter. Evidently we have to have one. It's worse with Gomes, though, because Jeter at least has talent.
The Fox crew actually made the point that while Gomes can't hit, field, run the bases or contribute much on the diamond, he is pure magic to the Red Sox because of his bonhomie. Cincinnati, Oakland and Boston all made the playoffs because Gomes spread his good cheer around the clubhouse like so much peanut butter. That he performed below replacement level for the Reds and also played for dismal teams in Tampa and Washington, are inconvenient facts that cloudy the picture of a happy-go-lucky leprechaun spreading post-season rainbows from his pot of gold on otherwise moribund teammates.
For the record, Johnny Gomes has played parts of 11 seasons, mostly in a part-time role. He has contributed roughly five wins compared to a replacement player to his employers, or less than half a win per season. His .788 lifetime OPS is about average for an outfielder, but his glove should be euthanized for its own good. He's complemented that with a putrid .350 OPS in five playoff series (though in fairness, he barely gets playing time in those crucial games.)
Gomes isn't a bad player -- he's smacked 149 lifetime home runs -- he's just . . . a guy. No team has ever made the playoffs because Johnny Gomes wears a cape with their emblem. Quite the reverse. He's been fortunate to have some really talented colleagues the last four seasons. Let's try to keep cause and effect straight.
Oh Beautiful Say Can You See
When the series returns to Boston -- if it does -- let's hope that Red Sox brass finally hangs up the Boston Marathon pathos already. They have so milked that teet dry that they had to recycle James Taylor in Game 2, much to his confusion. The bombing was a terrible tragedy and an attack on the city, but it's half a year old. Something like 20,000 people have died in car crashes nationwide since then, roughly 3,000 of them because of morons who couldn't put down their phones.
23 October 2013
Who Will Win the World Series
On the day after the San Francisco Giants agreed to pour about $10 million too much into Tim Lincecum's bank account...
(I mean, really, the guy has been a below-average pitcher for the past two years. If the G-men have some reason to believe in a Freaky return, fine, but they don't have to pay him like it. $14.1 million for one year would qualify them for compensation if he bolts, and that's more than he deserves. A two-year, $24.1 million offer would have been more than fair and barely justifiable.)
If you want to have a good laugh, read the "analysis" being done of the World Series. You'll particularly love the ubiquitous position-by-position comparisons, as if Dustin Pedroia lines up across the line of scrimmage from Matt Carpenter.
Any analysis at all of the teams' strengths is largely irrelevant in a seven-game series. The better team is going to lose the series 40% of the time even when it's clear which one is better. A quick perusal of the Cards and Sox reveals that this one really is a toss-up. Here's why:
Both these teams are among the top five hitting teams in their league. Cardinal shortstop Pete Kozma is the only soft spot in either starting lineup. You can expect plenty of offense throughout both lineups -- unless you can't. Predicting how teams will hit in a seven-game series is a fool's errand; witness the playoff series that got the two squads here in which neither showed much life at the plate, absent a pair of grand slams.
Both teams have top five pitching. The Cards have the edge at the top: they own the single best starter in the series in Adam Wainwright. They might own the second-best too if Michael Wacha, who'd thrown all of 60 innings in his Major League career prior to the playoffs, continues his run of terror. Expecting Wacha to strangle Boston the way he did the Dodgers is like expecting a solar eclipse the day after seeing one. The Red Sox are nothing like free-swinging L.A. -- they saw more pitches per game than any team in baseball. In fact, the Sox are nothing like any team Wacha has ever seen. With the DH, at least in his first start, Boston will throw one above-average hitter after another at him. So let's go light on the Michael Wacha predictions.
If the Cards own an edge in the rotation, the Sox take it back in the pen. Trevor Rosenthal is the presumptive closer for St. Louis, but he's no Koji Uehara. Boston also has more lefties in the relief corps and a pair of starters -- Ryan Dempster and Felxi Doubront -- who can eat innings and save the bullpen from wear in a blowout or extra-inning affair.
Defense is more of a wash, primarily because, though neither team commits many errors, neither is stellar with the leather. B-Strong will be further weakened when David Ortiz shuffles to first with his mitt in Busch Stadium. Youngsters in both dugouts will give announcers plenty of opportunities to blame errors on inexperience and butterflies.
One extra game at Fenway conveys a tiny edge to the hometown team, but only if there's a Game 7. We should be so lucky. If there's an emotional lift to be had, they have the marathon bombings, but it's more likely that the statute of limitations is up on that tragedy, which they've been riding all season. The same for any revenge factor St. Louis might feel about the 2004 Series sweep. Only Yadier Molina and manager Mike Matheny (as a player) remain from that Cardinal team. (Only Big Papi from Boston.)
If you think managers make much difference, you're right. A weak tactician can diminish his side's chances. Neither of these relatively inexperienced managers has demonstrated much inclination towards bonehead moves. Frankly, each of them has a bevy of good options on the mound and at the plate.
Bottom line, a pair of teams that beat expectations and tough divisions to post 97 wins, come into the Fall Classic on a roll. Even-Steven, Bob.
Let's just slay one dragon you've already begin seeing around the ballpark. The chatter about how individuals have played in the postseason -- all of nine games for Boston and 11 for St. Louis -- is pure drivel with the predictive value of astrology. Some players may indeed be hot, or cold, or hurt. Most of them though, performed well or poorly for a few games that are now over. Shake the etch-a-sketch and play ball.
Go Saux. Go seven games.
(I mean, really, the guy has been a below-average pitcher for the past two years. If the G-men have some reason to believe in a Freaky return, fine, but they don't have to pay him like it. $14.1 million for one year would qualify them for compensation if he bolts, and that's more than he deserves. A two-year, $24.1 million offer would have been more than fair and barely justifiable.)
If you want to have a good laugh, read the "analysis" being done of the World Series. You'll particularly love the ubiquitous position-by-position comparisons, as if Dustin Pedroia lines up across the line of scrimmage from Matt Carpenter.
Any analysis at all of the teams' strengths is largely irrelevant in a seven-game series. The better team is going to lose the series 40% of the time even when it's clear which one is better. A quick perusal of the Cards and Sox reveals that this one really is a toss-up. Here's why:
Both these teams are among the top five hitting teams in their league. Cardinal shortstop Pete Kozma is the only soft spot in either starting lineup. You can expect plenty of offense throughout both lineups -- unless you can't. Predicting how teams will hit in a seven-game series is a fool's errand; witness the playoff series that got the two squads here in which neither showed much life at the plate, absent a pair of grand slams.
Both teams have top five pitching. The Cards have the edge at the top: they own the single best starter in the series in Adam Wainwright. They might own the second-best too if Michael Wacha, who'd thrown all of 60 innings in his Major League career prior to the playoffs, continues his run of terror. Expecting Wacha to strangle Boston the way he did the Dodgers is like expecting a solar eclipse the day after seeing one. The Red Sox are nothing like free-swinging L.A. -- they saw more pitches per game than any team in baseball. In fact, the Sox are nothing like any team Wacha has ever seen. With the DH, at least in his first start, Boston will throw one above-average hitter after another at him. So let's go light on the Michael Wacha predictions.
If the Cards own an edge in the rotation, the Sox take it back in the pen. Trevor Rosenthal is the presumptive closer for St. Louis, but he's no Koji Uehara. Boston also has more lefties in the relief corps and a pair of starters -- Ryan Dempster and Felxi Doubront -- who can eat innings and save the bullpen from wear in a blowout or extra-inning affair.
Defense is more of a wash, primarily because, though neither team commits many errors, neither is stellar with the leather. B-Strong will be further weakened when David Ortiz shuffles to first with his mitt in Busch Stadium. Youngsters in both dugouts will give announcers plenty of opportunities to blame errors on inexperience and butterflies.
One extra game at Fenway conveys a tiny edge to the hometown team, but only if there's a Game 7. We should be so lucky. If there's an emotional lift to be had, they have the marathon bombings, but it's more likely that the statute of limitations is up on that tragedy, which they've been riding all season. The same for any revenge factor St. Louis might feel about the 2004 Series sweep. Only Yadier Molina and manager Mike Matheny (as a player) remain from that Cardinal team. (Only Big Papi from Boston.)
If you think managers make much difference, you're right. A weak tactician can diminish his side's chances. Neither of these relatively inexperienced managers has demonstrated much inclination towards bonehead moves. Frankly, each of them has a bevy of good options on the mound and at the plate.
Bottom line, a pair of teams that beat expectations and tough divisions to post 97 wins, come into the Fall Classic on a roll. Even-Steven, Bob.
Let's just slay one dragon you've already begin seeing around the ballpark. The chatter about how individuals have played in the postseason -- all of nine games for Boston and 11 for St. Louis -- is pure drivel with the predictive value of astrology. Some players may indeed be hot, or cold, or hurt. Most of them though, performed well or poorly for a few games that are now over. Shake the etch-a-sketch and play ball.
Go Saux. Go seven games.
17 October 2013
Random Playoff Noodlings
It's been heartening to hear the sports media's temperance with respect to the Cardinals' 3-1 series lead (now 3-2 as this is being written). In previous years they would have been presiding over the Dodgers' funeral. But the analysis I've heard has all noted how St. Lou blew a 3-1 NLCS lead against the eventual champs just last season. Just because the Fat Lady is warming up doesn't mean she's got a gig tonight.
On the flip side, how about all those pitching certainties. The first four starters to lose decisions in the league championship series this year: Lester, Kershaw, Verlander, Wainwright. Pitching matchups, like home field, convey advantages, not guarantees.
Evidence we still have a long way to go: Fox still talks incessantly about player performance in the postseason, as if Shane Victorino never went 9 for 35 in eight regular season games. Until a player has accumulated 100 postseason at bats or 45 postseason innings, can we stop talking about their "clutchness" or "postseason performance?" Are Miguel Cabrera's hitting woes the result of low moral fiber or just injury? How about Prince Fielder? Do Cardinal batters suffer from a lack of clutchness in the playoffs or from Clayton Kershaw, Zack Greinke and Hyun-Jin Ryu? Is Michael Wacha a great postseason pitcher or an amazing rookie who is still improving? The only certain truth is that I don't know and neither do you.
Some people don't like 1-0 playoff games. Some people are Communists. My advice to them is to watch roller derby.
America passed on an opportunity to vote Koji Uehara onto the All-Star team this year in the final selection ballot. The Sox closer allowed a 1.09 ERA with 42 baserunners and 101 whiffs in 74 innings. Would America like its vote back?
Mike Napoli was batting .250 with a home run in the postseason this year going into Game 5 of Boston's series with Detroit. Not very clutch. Then he went 3 for 4 in Game 5 and now he's batting .375 with two big flies and an .875 SLG. Clutch!
One thing missing from the riveting playoffs this year is a Godsend. October weather in Boston, Detroit and St. Louis has provided evidence that the big man in the sky loves America's pastime. Let's hope the World Series isn't on past His bedtime.
On the flip side, how about all those pitching certainties. The first four starters to lose decisions in the league championship series this year: Lester, Kershaw, Verlander, Wainwright. Pitching matchups, like home field, convey advantages, not guarantees.
Evidence we still have a long way to go: Fox still talks incessantly about player performance in the postseason, as if Shane Victorino never went 9 for 35 in eight regular season games. Until a player has accumulated 100 postseason at bats or 45 postseason innings, can we stop talking about their "clutchness" or "postseason performance?" Are Miguel Cabrera's hitting woes the result of low moral fiber or just injury? How about Prince Fielder? Do Cardinal batters suffer from a lack of clutchness in the playoffs or from Clayton Kershaw, Zack Greinke and Hyun-Jin Ryu? Is Michael Wacha a great postseason pitcher or an amazing rookie who is still improving? The only certain truth is that I don't know and neither do you.
Some people don't like 1-0 playoff games. Some people are Communists. My advice to them is to watch roller derby.
America passed on an opportunity to vote Koji Uehara onto the All-Star team this year in the final selection ballot. The Sox closer allowed a 1.09 ERA with 42 baserunners and 101 whiffs in 74 innings. Would America like its vote back?
Mike Napoli was batting .250 with a home run in the postseason this year going into Game 5 of Boston's series with Detroit. Not very clutch. Then he went 3 for 4 in Game 5 and now he's batting .375 with two big flies and an .875 SLG. Clutch!
One thing missing from the riveting playoffs this year is a Godsend. October weather in Boston, Detroit and St. Louis has provided evidence that the big man in the sky loves America's pastime. Let's hope the World Series isn't on past His bedtime.
13 October 2013
Jim Leyland Doesn't Give a Rat's Ass About a No Hitter
Speculation last night in Game 1 of the ALCS about whether Tiger manager Jim Leyland would pull Anibal Sanchez following the sixth inning after 115 pitches.
After all, they noted, he had a no-hitter going.
They forgot to mention that a group of jellyfish is called a smack. And that the average February temperature in the Nunavut territories is minus-28 degrees. And that bookkeeper is the only word in English with three consecutive double letters.
All of these are facts. All of them are irrelevant to Jim Leyland's decision to pull a pitcher whose arm was coming off in Game 1 of the playoff series whose winner plays for the World Championship.
The Fox announcers decided Sanchez could go because he had only completed six innings, not eight. He wasn't close to completing the no-hitter.
Memo to them: Jim Leyland would have pulled Sanchez with two outs in the ninth and two strikes on the batter if he thought it would improve his chances of winning the game. Jim Leyland's sole concern right now is to win a World Series in Detroit. An Anibal Sanchez no-hitter is as much his concern as sales of the next Killers' album.
And that is why Jim Leyland is managing a team in the ALCS and Tim McCarver is an announcer on Fox.
After all, they noted, he had a no-hitter going.
They forgot to mention that a group of jellyfish is called a smack. And that the average February temperature in the Nunavut territories is minus-28 degrees. And that bookkeeper is the only word in English with three consecutive double letters.
All of these are facts. All of them are irrelevant to Jim Leyland's decision to pull a pitcher whose arm was coming off in Game 1 of the playoff series whose winner plays for the World Championship.
The Fox announcers decided Sanchez could go because he had only completed six innings, not eight. He wasn't close to completing the no-hitter.
Memo to them: Jim Leyland would have pulled Sanchez with two outs in the ninth and two strikes on the batter if he thought it would improve his chances of winning the game. Jim Leyland's sole concern right now is to win a World Series in Detroit. An Anibal Sanchez no-hitter is as much his concern as sales of the next Killers' album.
And that is why Jim Leyland is managing a team in the ALCS and Tim McCarver is an announcer on Fox.
12 October 2013
The Magic Sauce in St. Louis
At the end of 2011, the St. Louis Cardinals won a dramatic World Series anchored by Albert Pujols, the best player on the planet; Lance Berkman and his .959 OPS (league average, .720); Matt Holliday (.912 OPS); backstop exraordinaire Yadier Molina; starters Chris Carpenter, Kyle Lohse, and Jaime Garcia, a combined 38-24, 3.46; and closer Jason Motte. Hall of Famer Tony LaRussa skippered the over-achievers in his Major League swan song.
Then Pujols skipped town for a pot of gold, LaRussa retired, Berkman moved on, Motte fell apart, Carpenter ordered a new ulnar collateral ligament and Lohse cashed in on a career year. They're all gone. Jaime Garcia has pitched 177 innings in the intervening two years. Only Holliday and Molina stayed put and kept producing.
The Cardinals did not dip heavily into free agent waters to replace all that talent. They brought in Carlos Beltran and some spare parts. So as you can imagine, the franchise has declined...to pause in its pursuit of another title. They won the toughest division in baseball, achieved the best record in the National League and now pose a World Series return threat.
If you're tired of the Redbirds, join the club. But don't fail to appreciate this unbelievable franchise, the best in the game at producing winning teams without spending significant fractions of a billion dollars. In two years, they have developed an MVP-candidate second baseman (Matt Carpenter), a post-season hero third baseman (David Freese), an RBI-machine first baseman (Allen Craig), a solid center fielder (Jon Jay), and possibly the best of them all, a slugging first baseman with 17 home runs in half a rookie season (Matt Adams).
And that's less than half the story. After welcoming back Adam Wainwright following TJ surgery, St. Louis turned into a pitcher nursery this season, with six hurlers under 26 throwing 50 innings or more impressively. That doesn't count 23-year-old lefty Kevin Siegrist, who only accumulated 40 frames, during which he allowed two runs on 17 hits and fanned 50. Just 22, rookie Shelby Miller bollixed NL batters to the tune of 15-9, 3.06 in the role of #2 starter.
It's impossible from this perch to determine whether GM John Mozeliak is a brilliant drafter or whether the franchise, in the shadow of Branch Rickey, excels at developing talent. Likely a combination. Either way, the Cards were the NL's second-best hitting and fifth-best pitching squad in the NL this year, en route to 97 wins.
It's funny to think about the money-greased Dodgers as upstarts against the child care center representing St. Louis, but with three World Series and two League Championship appearances in the last decade, the Cardinals present an aura of steady accomplishment. Just remember they're doing it not with Benjamins but with brains.
Then Pujols skipped town for a pot of gold, LaRussa retired, Berkman moved on, Motte fell apart, Carpenter ordered a new ulnar collateral ligament and Lohse cashed in on a career year. They're all gone. Jaime Garcia has pitched 177 innings in the intervening two years. Only Holliday and Molina stayed put and kept producing.
The Cardinals did not dip heavily into free agent waters to replace all that talent. They brought in Carlos Beltran and some spare parts. So as you can imagine, the franchise has declined...to pause in its pursuit of another title. They won the toughest division in baseball, achieved the best record in the National League and now pose a World Series return threat.
If you're tired of the Redbirds, join the club. But don't fail to appreciate this unbelievable franchise, the best in the game at producing winning teams without spending significant fractions of a billion dollars. In two years, they have developed an MVP-candidate second baseman (Matt Carpenter), a post-season hero third baseman (David Freese), an RBI-machine first baseman (Allen Craig), a solid center fielder (Jon Jay), and possibly the best of them all, a slugging first baseman with 17 home runs in half a rookie season (Matt Adams).
And that's less than half the story. After welcoming back Adam Wainwright following TJ surgery, St. Louis turned into a pitcher nursery this season, with six hurlers under 26 throwing 50 innings or more impressively. That doesn't count 23-year-old lefty Kevin Siegrist, who only accumulated 40 frames, during which he allowed two runs on 17 hits and fanned 50. Just 22, rookie Shelby Miller bollixed NL batters to the tune of 15-9, 3.06 in the role of #2 starter.
It's impossible from this perch to determine whether GM John Mozeliak is a brilliant drafter or whether the franchise, in the shadow of Branch Rickey, excels at developing talent. Likely a combination. Either way, the Cards were the NL's second-best hitting and fifth-best pitching squad in the NL this year, en route to 97 wins.
It's funny to think about the money-greased Dodgers as upstarts against the child care center representing St. Louis, but with three World Series and two League Championship appearances in the last decade, the Cardinals present an aura of steady accomplishment. Just remember they're doing it not with Benjamins but with brains.
05 October 2013
Hey, Who Took My Momentum?!
After all these years of inquiries about the nature of this effable quality so many call "momentum," Major League Baseball has finally provided clarity. Here is today's headline about the St. Louis-Pittsburgh NLDS series, knotted at a game apiece following the Bucs' 7-1 victory.
Strategy Shifts Momentum in Pirates' Favor
So there you go. Momentum is . . . a win. A single nine-inning triumph, according to the official mouthpiece of MLB, constitutes momentum. A team secures one of these on-field victories, much as it had done 94 times during the season, including 10 times against the opponent in question, and it suddenly has this . . . thing, momentum.
Before that one victory, evidently, the Pirates did not have momentum. In fact, it appears that Major League Baseball asserts that the Cardinals, with their 9-1 win the previous day, took custody of momentum until it was transferred the following evening to Pittsburgh, much like Baby Veronica recently got shuffled from her adoptive parents in South Carolina to her biological father in Oklahmoa and back to the adoptive couple. Apparently, the Capobiancos now have momentum, as well as Veronica. The difference there is that their fight for momentum required court rulings, bench warrants, extradition requests, arrest threats and the intervention of an entire Indian tribe, whereas the Pirates merely had to build a lead and get three outs in the ninth.
The two teams will play again, twice, in PNC Park, where, we are to infer, momentum will be up for grabs, like the Little Brown Jug in the Michigan-Minnesota football rivalry. The magic power of Pittsburgh's momentous Game 2 victory will shrivel to irrelevance as momentum is bestowed upon Game 3's winner, and then presumably transferred back again after Game 4 and so on. If the series goes back and forth to a deciding Game 5, momentum will have been tossed about like a hot potato until it suddenly evaporates in the wake of actual elimination.
God help poor momentum in a back-and-forth seven-game series. It must get vertigo spinning around from one club to the other until finally falling exhausted into the prevailing dugout.
Before PETA and the ACLU get hot and bothered about the inhumane treatment of momentum, there is good news. This wanton abuse of momentum is a figment of everyone's imagination because . . . momentum is a figment of everyone's imagination. In a five-game series, the survivor must win three games, not two and not one. Winning the first game does not convey any special advantage except banking one of those three wins. Being up two games-to-none, or two-to-one, or whatever, has proved pretty thin gruel (see: 2012 San Francisco Giants) for teams unable to close the deal. Each game is a separate entity beholden to that day's starting pitchers, game conditions, lineups, tweaks of strategy, luck, more luck and a host of other factors.
Someone has to win Game 3. What they will have then is two wins and nothing more. They will still need to outscore the other team in one of the two remaining contests, and momentum is not going to help them one iota.
Strategy Shifts Momentum in Pirates' Favor
So there you go. Momentum is . . . a win. A single nine-inning triumph, according to the official mouthpiece of MLB, constitutes momentum. A team secures one of these on-field victories, much as it had done 94 times during the season, including 10 times against the opponent in question, and it suddenly has this . . . thing, momentum.
Before that one victory, evidently, the Pirates did not have momentum. In fact, it appears that Major League Baseball asserts that the Cardinals, with their 9-1 win the previous day, took custody of momentum until it was transferred the following evening to Pittsburgh, much like Baby Veronica recently got shuffled from her adoptive parents in South Carolina to her biological father in Oklahmoa and back to the adoptive couple. Apparently, the Capobiancos now have momentum, as well as Veronica. The difference there is that their fight for momentum required court rulings, bench warrants, extradition requests, arrest threats and the intervention of an entire Indian tribe, whereas the Pirates merely had to build a lead and get three outs in the ninth.
The two teams will play again, twice, in PNC Park, where, we are to infer, momentum will be up for grabs, like the Little Brown Jug in the Michigan-Minnesota football rivalry. The magic power of Pittsburgh's momentous Game 2 victory will shrivel to irrelevance as momentum is bestowed upon Game 3's winner, and then presumably transferred back again after Game 4 and so on. If the series goes back and forth to a deciding Game 5, momentum will have been tossed about like a hot potato until it suddenly evaporates in the wake of actual elimination.
God help poor momentum in a back-and-forth seven-game series. It must get vertigo spinning around from one club to the other until finally falling exhausted into the prevailing dugout.
Before PETA and the ACLU get hot and bothered about the inhumane treatment of momentum, there is good news. This wanton abuse of momentum is a figment of everyone's imagination because . . . momentum is a figment of everyone's imagination. In a five-game series, the survivor must win three games, not two and not one. Winning the first game does not convey any special advantage except banking one of those three wins. Being up two games-to-none, or two-to-one, or whatever, has proved pretty thin gruel (see: 2012 San Francisco Giants) for teams unable to close the deal. Each game is a separate entity beholden to that day's starting pitchers, game conditions, lineups, tweaks of strategy, luck, more luck and a host of other factors.
Someone has to win Game 3. What they will have then is two wins and nothing more. They will still need to outscore the other team in one of the two remaining contests, and momentum is not going to help them one iota.
04 October 2013
The Firing of Dusty Baker
Current Cincinnati GM Walt Jocketty, who served for 14 sparkling years in the same position with St. Louis, has forgotten more about baseball than the entire membership of Rho Beta Iota fraternity will ever know. So if he actually did fire Dusty Baker today after six seasons because the Reds skidded to six consecutive losses to end the season, he should be rushed to the hospital for an emergency brain scan.
Jocketty has been too successful for too long to make a move so utterly lacking in sense that even a Kardashian should know better. Even great teams endure winning lulls during the course of a long season. Judging a field general's 972-game performance with the club by one bad week (against a formidable and highly-motivated opponent) is like demoting a star player because he's oh-for his last five games.
The silliness is even more fundamental than that. Evaluating a manager based on his team's record is like appraising an movie actor based on the screenplay. In each case, their performance has some impact on the final product, but it's vastly less important than other considerations.
In reporting Baker's firing, many sports news outlets examined his managerial won-loss record, as if that would reveal something about his managerial acumen. It hardly needs to be explained that managers are entirely dependent on their teams' talent; Moe, Larry and Curly could have skippered the 1998 Yankees to the World Series while this year's Astros were beyond the help of Jimmy Dugan himself.
Like an iceberg, much of a manager's value is accrued out of view. But after 20 years in the position with the Giants, Cubs and Reds, two things are clear about him: 1. players love playing for him and 2. he might be the worst tactician in the history of the sport.
If a team values stubborn intransigence in their chief on-field strategist, Dusty is their man. He refuses to acknowledge the importance of on-base percentage, despite its objective truth. He cost the Reds dozens of runs over six years by leading off speedsters with abysmal OBP and he cost an impressive list of top-shelf pitchers (notably Kerry Wood and Mark Prior) significant portions of their careers by almost-literally working their arms off.
Which makes his firing all the more puzzling. Dusty's entire managerial career is a miracle, a 20-year exaltation of rampant ignorance, validated three times by the very lords of ignorance -- baseball writers -- with Manager of the Year awards. The truth is, Dusty should never have been hired, but once in place never ceased being what he was hired to be.
As is often the case, all this is much more an indictment of the people paid to analyze the game than the people who perform on the field. They will continue to use won-loss records as a proxy for real evaluation tools without ever acknowledging their utter futility. As for Dusty Baker, his teams won 90+ games three of the last four years. Some desperate front office, like Seattle's, will be sufficiently bamboozled to hire him so that he can bat Neifi Perez leadoff.
Jocketty has been too successful for too long to make a move so utterly lacking in sense that even a Kardashian should know better. Even great teams endure winning lulls during the course of a long season. Judging a field general's 972-game performance with the club by one bad week (against a formidable and highly-motivated opponent) is like demoting a star player because he's oh-for his last five games.
The silliness is even more fundamental than that. Evaluating a manager based on his team's record is like appraising an movie actor based on the screenplay. In each case, their performance has some impact on the final product, but it's vastly less important than other considerations.
In reporting Baker's firing, many sports news outlets examined his managerial won-loss record, as if that would reveal something about his managerial acumen. It hardly needs to be explained that managers are entirely dependent on their teams' talent; Moe, Larry and Curly could have skippered the 1998 Yankees to the World Series while this year's Astros were beyond the help of Jimmy Dugan himself.
Like an iceberg, much of a manager's value is accrued out of view. But after 20 years in the position with the Giants, Cubs and Reds, two things are clear about him: 1. players love playing for him and 2. he might be the worst tactician in the history of the sport.
If a team values stubborn intransigence in their chief on-field strategist, Dusty is their man. He refuses to acknowledge the importance of on-base percentage, despite its objective truth. He cost the Reds dozens of runs over six years by leading off speedsters with abysmal OBP and he cost an impressive list of top-shelf pitchers (notably Kerry Wood and Mark Prior) significant portions of their careers by almost-literally working their arms off.
Which makes his firing all the more puzzling. Dusty's entire managerial career is a miracle, a 20-year exaltation of rampant ignorance, validated three times by the very lords of ignorance -- baseball writers -- with Manager of the Year awards. The truth is, Dusty should never have been hired, but once in place never ceased being what he was hired to be.
As is often the case, all this is much more an indictment of the people paid to analyze the game than the people who perform on the field. They will continue to use won-loss records as a proxy for real evaluation tools without ever acknowledging their utter futility. As for Dusty Baker, his teams won 90+ games three of the last four years. Some desperate front office, like Seattle's, will be sufficiently bamboozled to hire him so that he can bat Neifi Perez leadoff.
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