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Life of Boswell

 

Tom Boswell is one of my sportswriting heroes. Boz has written eloquently about baseball and sports for some forty years now. I have also talked with him at various events, and he’s an extremely nice man who, it seems to me, usually has an interesting view of the world and of sports. His back-to-back columns on the Sugar Ray Leonard-Roberto Duran fights — the first where Duran mauled Leonard, the second where Leonard mocked Duran into saying “no mas” — is like a sportswriting clinic. You could teach entire classes on just those two articles.

There, now that I am done telling you how I feel about the man and his work, I must say that I read this from the man and I find myself sitting here in stunned and rather gloomy silence. I have actually read several columns the last couple of days that make what appears to be Boz’s main point — the main point being, I guess, that baseball writers are becoming too geeky and VORPy, and are ignoring what is obvious and right in front of their faces. And this is best proven by the baffling MVP choice of Albert Pujols over Ryan Howard for MVP.

Yes, I’ve read other columns along these lines, but the other columns I’ve read were from hometown Phillies writers or people I do not have any particular opinion about. I love the Boz. I respect the Boz. I read columns from the Boz and, even if my starting opinion is precisely the opposite of his, I find myself halfway through thinking, “Well, maybe he’s right and I’m wrong.”

And yet this column is overwhelmed with such twisted logic that I’m sitting here doing all sorts of Shawn Johnson mental gymnastics in order to come to some sort of peaceful resolution between my love of the Boz and this opinion wreckage.

The key line in Boz’s column seems to be this:

When stats WILDLY contradict common sense, always doubt the stats.

That sounds good. It really does. I read that sentence, once, twice, five times, and each time I read it I liked the rhythms of it, I liked the construction, I liked the use of all-capital letters in WILDLY. When stats WILDLY contradict common sense, always doubt the stats. Yes, this seems a solid premise.

Only, you know what? It isn’t. It is, when you think about it, a horrifying premise — I cannot believe that Tom Boswell, my hero, really believes that. Common sense says that the universe revolves around the earth. Common sense says that thunder clapping means God’s angry. Common sense says that when your car is sliding you want to turn your wheel away from the skid. Common sense says that a fast guy with no power who might or might not get on base is the perfect guy to put in the leadoff spot. Common sense that the queen of spades is the middle card. Common sense says that if you put Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg together, you will get an entertaining movie. Common sense says that the best way to hit a golf ball far is to swing harder. Common sense says a lot of incredibly stupid things and if you are going to automatically choose common sense over, you know stats and facts and results, well, that’s a good way to crash into trees and lose your shirt in a card game and get stuck with Omar Moreno.

But, forget that for a moment. There’s a larger point … so let’s remember the line: When stats WILDLY contradict common sense, always doubt the stats. Boz was using this line to point out that the gulf of a difference in VORP (Value Over Replacement Player) between Pujols (96.8) and Howard (35.3) is so massive that it simply cannot be right, it bends common sense. I mean, that says Pujols is, what, 61 VORPies better than Howard, that just seems wrong, wrong, wrong. And based on the Rule of Boswell you have to doubt the veracity of VORP.

Now, one thing I should say is that I don’t really see how the huge difference in VORP really cuts against common sense. Pujols hit 106 points higher than Howard. His on-base percentage was 123 points higher. His slugging percentage was 110 points better. It doesn’t seem too much of a stretch that Pujols had a much, much better season and that this would be dramatically reflected in their VORP. And VORP does not even consider the massive differences in their defensive ability (Pujols is a better first baseman) or their base-running ability (Pujols is a better baserunner) or their various splits (Howard was more or less helpless against left-handed pitchers). It seems pretty obvious from just about any angle you look at that Albert Pujols is a much better player than Ryan Howard, and he had a much, much, much, much, much, much, much better season — would say at least 61 VORPies better.

But — I told you there would be some mental gymnastics here — let’s play along. Let’s say that the VORP difference does indeed give pause … hmm, this says that Pujols was three-times the player that Ryan Howard was in 2008, and that just doesn’t pass the smell test. So where can we turn to offer a little common sense in this sea of numbers confusion?

Here’s what Boz says: “Sometimes you have to underline the obvious; for example a first baseman with 146 RBIs is ‘more valuable,’* especially when he plays on a first-place team, than a first baseman (Pujols) with 116 RBIs on a fourth-place team.“

*I’m not entirely certain why Boz put ”more valuable“ in quotes. I have this friend who does that, who puts those little air-quotation marks around the strangest words. He will say things like, ”I have ‘to’ go to the bathroom,“ or ”This chicken salad is very delicious ‘but a’ little bit dry.“

OK. So here’s where we are now. Tom Boswell, who just crushed VORP for the way it crosses logic (and, later in the article, he does the same for runs created, OPS and TOTAL AVERAGE, which he invented), now explains that the only way to judge these two men, the only logical and common-sense way to measure the 2008 baseball achievements of Ryan Howard and Albert Pujols, is to look at:

1. The number of RBIs they drove in.
2. The finish of their teams.

That’s it. Don’t analyze beyond that. In fact, to quote Boswell’s next sentence, ”Don’t analyze beyond that.“ See? The man who is basing his entire argument on that Boz Premise (to remind you: when stats WILDLY contradict common sense always doubt the stats) is now choosing RBIs — FREAKING RBIs — over common sense. I mean RBIs. Do we need to really go over this RBI thing again?

And I know that Boz understands that Pujols is a much better player because he spends the next paragraph pointing out that, yes, Howard can’t field, and yes Pujols outhit him, and yes Howard strikes out a lot while Pujols walks a lot. He knows this to be true. But you know the Seinfeld line about how impressed he is that the Chinese are sticking with chopsticks (”Oh, they’ve seen he fork. They don’t care. They’re sticking with the chopsticks”). Well, Boz is sticking with those RBIs.

And he follows with these gems:

”But none of it outweighs Howard’s RBI total, built on his .320 average with runners in scoring position.“ Pujols hit .339 with runners in scoring position and reached base more than half the time.

”For what it’s worth, Howard wasn’t even in the top half dozen in baseball in runners on base when he came to the plate.“ This is true; Howard was eighth with 483 runners on base. But you know what? That’s a lot of runners. A LOT of runners. That’s 47 more runners than Pujols. And Pujols was also intentionally walked 34 times (to Howard’s 17).

”(Howard) is Mr. Multi-Run Homer.“ Howard hit 26 of his 48 homers with men on base, that’s 54%, which is pretty good. League average is closer to 44%. Pujols was at 46%. However is should be noted that Howard also CAME UP up with men on base a touch more than half the time. And while Pujols hit six homers with multiple men on base (including a slam), Howard hit five. I’m not reserving ”www.MisterMultipleHomer.com“ just yet.

King Kaufman over at Slate Salon (sorry King) wrote something the other day that I really liked. He wrote that the methodology for some voters seems to be: “Figure out who you like as MVP, then fashion the current year’s definition of ‘valuable’ to fit.”

I think that’s about right. I understand why people would want to vote for Ryan Howard as MVP. It fits a neat story line. We don’t want our MVPs to just be the boring ol’ best player — no we want them to be superheroes, we want to ascribe to them some sort of mystical talents that lift teams above their modest means and carry them to unforseen heights. We want to believe that the MVP — and the MVP alone — could have lifted them higher than they’ve ever been lifted before.

Sure, the Phillies were defending division champs. Sure, they have better players than Ryan Howard, including the guy who plays right next to him. Sure, they had a couple of very good left-handed starters and a closer who did not blow a save. Sure Ryan Howard, coming into September, had been absolutely terrible (.234/.324/.490 — but lots of ‘dem RBIs!). Sure the Phillies pitchers gave up three runs or less in 12 of the last 16 games as the Phillies overcame a sinking Mets team.

Sure, we all KNOW that baseball is a team sport, and that one player can only do so much, and that if Albert Pujols would have been in Philadelphia instead of Ryan Howard his numbers might have forced a Florida recount. Sure. But it’s so much more poetic to give the credit to Ryan Howard, who had an excellent September and banged some big home runs down the stretch. It’s so much more fun to believe the most valuable player always plays on the best team, and that he wills his team to victory with his great strength and will and heroism and timely home runs. The trouble is that this doesn’t really resemble life. And it means sometimes ignoring everything you know to be true and, instead, spreading the gospel of RBIs.

Boz, in the column, proceeds to explain why K-Rod should have won the American League MVP, but I’m to tired to go into that.

Mussina Redux

 

I just got an email from Tyler Kepner at the New York Times, who wrote today’s story about Mike Mussina. I bring this up because I mentioned in the last post that, based on the story, I seemed to be sort of an island with my feeling that Mussina is a slam-dunk Hall of Famer. But Tyler says that he got 40 responses from writers, and 32 of them said they would vote for Mussina as a Hall of Famer. That’s more than 75% — which is enough to get him in. And it shows that, actually, lots of people see Mussina the way I see him.

This touches on a larger topic that I started writing in another blog post — I think this has been a very good year for the Baseball Writers Association. Yes INDIVIDUALLY there have been some rather quirky and cranky ballots and opinions, but as a group the voters:

1. Chose Tim Lincecum over Brandon Webb for Cy Young even though Webb had more victories.
2. Chose Cliff Lee over K-Rod for Cy Young even though K-Rod set the saves record.
3. Chose Albert Pujols over Ryan Howard for MVP even though Howard had more homers and RBIs and had a big September and played for a team that reached the playoffs.

I see all of these as promising signs that the BBWAA as a whole is tilting toward more nuanced reasoning and thought. Lincecum had a measurably better year than Webb — so did Johan Santana, who finished behind Webb, but that’s down-ballot and not especially important.

Lee and a whole bunch of other people — including a handful of relievers — had better years than K-Rod.

And Albert Pujols was about 200 times better than Ryan Howard this year. You know, Howard really had a very pedestrian .251/.339/.543 season, and even that was aided by his bandbox of a ballpark. I don’t even think Howard was especially close to being the MVP of the PHILLIES, much less baseball, and I don’t think he should have been anywhere near the second-place MVP. But the point remains: Howard didn’t win. The right guy did. The voters got it right*.

*I guess I shouldn’t say much more until we find out who wins the AL MVP. If K-Rod wins that (or, to a lesser extent, Morneau) then I take it all back.

While we’re here, I would like to make one more point about Mussina. Brilliant reader Thomas offers this thought-provoking comment:

“But my thought about Moose is always this: if you were the opposing team facing him during a pennant race, were you ever frightened that you wouldn’t be able to get to him? He never had that invincible aura about him that the top pitchers of the day (Unit, Pedro, Clemens/Steroids, Schilling, Maddux) had. I know this is a rather weak argument against him, but it fits in there somewhere doesn’t it?“

I think there’s a real point here — sports is fun BECAUSE we do have emotional feelings about people. I can remember precisely how terrorized I used to get when John Elway got the ball with the Broncos down by four in the fourth quarter. And, being a Browns fan and later a Kansas City Chiefs writer, I was right to be concerned — Elway didn’t miss much. But what interests me here is how often our emotional feelings are just WRONG, how often conventional thinking is just WRONG.

For instance, when I read Thomas’ comment I thought — yeah, that sounds about right. Of course, when you compare anyone to Unit, Pedro, Clemens and Maddux — four of the, say, 15 greatest pitchers who ever lived — it’s hard to come out looking good. But then I thought … wait a minute: Is that really true? Did those guys really pitch better in those pennant races? Really?

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to do some kind of involved sweeping study. But I figured as a test-case, I would take a quick look and see how each of those pitchers pitched in September during their careers.

And, I found precisely what I was looking for: Mussina pitched as well or better than any of those guys.

Mike Mussina in Sept/Oct.: 44-21, .676 winning percentage, 2.86 ERA, 517 Ks, 130 walks.
Randy Johnson in Sept./Oct: 51-17, .750 WP, 2.95 ERA, 790 Ks, 230 walks.
Pedro Martinez in Sept./Oct: 28-27, 509 WP, 3.19 ERA, 496 Ks, 126 walks.
Roger Clemens in Sept./Oct: 53-35, .602 WP, 3.27 ERA, 745 Ks, 261 walks.
Greg Maddux in Sept/Oct: 62-49, .558 WP, 3.42 ERA, 565 Ks, 157 walks.
Curt Schilling in Sept./Oct: 34-25, .576 WP, 3.63 ERA, 494 Ks, 114 walks.

So Mussina has the best September ERA, the second best winning percentage and an outstanding strikeout to walk.

Now, does this prove anything? Of course not. It’s only a snapshot. Every September isn’t a pennant race. Every pennant race game isn’t in September. But I think that, often enough, our image of people is simply colored by, you know, our image of people. Mike Mussina was not celebrated as a dominant and scary pitcher — Thomas is right, he never gave off that aura — but maybe that is our failing. He was pretty damn good, even in September, even without that aura.

Moose Hunting

 

It’s time once again to play the numbers game:

Pitcher A: 243-142, .631 winning percentage, 3,507 innings, 3,153 hits, 2303 Ks, 709 walks, 263 Win Shares, 123 ERA+.
Pitcher B: 270-153, .638 winning percentage, 3,562 innings, 3,450 hits, 2,813 Ks, 785 walks, 270 Win Shares, 123 ERA+.

That’s pretty comparable, no? Pitcher A gave up fewer hits and walks, but pitcher B won more games at a higher clip and struck out more batters. They have the same ERA+.

If this is all you had to vote for the Hall of Fame, you would probably have a hard time deciding. Of course you wouldn’t vote for the Hall of Fame based solely on those numbers … you would want to dig a little deeper. So, OK, here are the Top 7 ERA+ seasons for each pitcher:

Pitcher A
169 ERA+
168 ERA+
167 ERA+
144 ERA+
132 ERA+
123 ERA+
121 ERA+

Pitcher B
163 ERA+
157 ERA+
145 ERA+
142 ERA+
137 ERA+
132 ERA+
129 ERA+ (twice)

So, it looks like Pitcher A had a couple more top end seasons, Pitcher B better lower-end seasons.

How about a few other statistics:

Walks per nine
Pitcher A: Led league four times, finished Top 10 eleven times.
Pitcher B: Led league once, finished Top 10 fifteen times.

Strikeouts per nine
Pitcher A: Finished Top 10 five times.
Pitcher B: Finished Top 10 nine times.

Innings pitched
Pitcher A: Led league twice, finished Top 10 eight times
Pitcher B: Led league once, finished Top 10 eight times

WHIP
Pitcher A: Led league twice, finished Top 10 eight times
Pitcher B: Never led league, finished Top 10 twelve times

Shutouts
Pitcher A: Led league twice, finished Top 10 nine times
Pitcher B: Led league once finished Top 10 eleven times.

Wins
Pitcher A: Led league twice, finished Top 10 eight times.
Pitcher B: Led league once, finished Top 10 nine times.

Adjusted ERA+
Pitcher A: Led league twice, finished Top 10 six times
Pitcher B: Never led league, finished Top 10 eleven times.

OK, so we are probably getting a clearer picture now. Pitcher A looks to be slightly more dominant at the top end, and Pitcher B looks to have had more good years. But, all in all, their similarities — it seems to me anyway — dwarf their differences. They are both good control pitchers who threw a lot of innings, struck out their share and won a lot.

So, now I’m going to tell you that Pitcher A is the guy Pete Rose and Joe Morgan, just over the weekend, called the toughest pitcher they ever faced. That would be Juan Marichal.

And Pitcher B is Mike Mussina.

Well, it shocked me anyway. On Monday, I was among those asked by New York Times sportswriter Tyler Kepner whether or not Mike Mussina is a Hall of Famer even if he does not come back next season.* My initial reaction was that yes, he is a Hall of Famer already. A cursory look at the numbers confirmed it for me. That 123 ERA+ is better than, among others, Tom Glavine, Bob Feller, Bert Blyleven, Warren Spahn, Gaylord Perry, Steve Carlton, Jim Bunning and Nolan Ryan. He has certainly pumped up plenty of good counting numbers if you care about those — 270 victories places him 33rd all-time, which sure isn’t bad in this five-man rotation, bring-in-the bullpen era. Plus he won more than 10 games 17 times — only Don Sutton, Greg Maddux, Phil Niekro and Walter Johnson have done that more.

*I have now read the story, and it seems that I’m a bit more enthusiastic about Mussina’s career than others.

But, even as I looked over the numbers, I had no idea how similar his career numbers are to Marichal’s until I just compared them on the computer screen. Now, admittedly the numbers are only similar if you leave out one critical statistic — that being ERA.

Marichal: 2.89 career ERA — sub 2.50 ERA six times.
Mussina: 3.68 career ERA — sub 2.50 ERA 0 times, sub 3.00 ERA once.

But I think that ERA difference is a bit of an illusion, which is why I left it out — Marichal pitched in a very low run-scoring environment. And Mussina pitched in a very high run-scoring environment. That’s why it’s easy to miss the similarities. Plus, Marichal pitched in a time when pitchers threw a lot of complete games (certainly Marichal threw a lot of complete games) and, as such, got a lot of decisions. Marichal won 25 or more games three times, he won 20 or more three other times. Mussina, of course, has only won 20 once, and that was this past year with the Yankees.

But compared to their times, Mussina and Marichal were both big winners who threw a lot of innings and had low ERAs. I think if you strip away the quirks of the times, Mussina and Marichal were both right-handed pitchers, about the same size (Mussina is two inches taller at 6-foot-2, both weighed 185), both threw a bunch of different pitches, both had dandy control, both attacked hitters inside, both won about 63% of their games, both had an unconventional pitch that sort of marked them — Marichal threw the screwball, Mussina a knuckle-curve.

Neither one won a Cy Young because they were overshadowed by world-class pitchers — Marichal did not even get a single Cy Young vote the three years he won 25 games, because those years belonged to Sandy Koufax and Bob Gibson. Mussina lost the 1999 Cy Young to Pedro, and he found himself somewhat lost in the decade of Randy Johnson and Roger Clemens.

They both have quite low “Index of Self Destruction” numbers — this is another invention of Bill James where he takes the total number of a pitchers hit batsman, balks, wild pitchers and errors per nine innings pitched. It’s just a fun way of looking at how much a pitcher hurts himself …

Marichal: 0.41 Index — quite low, in large part because he only hit 40 batters in his career and only threw 51 wild pitches. His control was stellar.
Mussina: 0.37 Index — even lower in large part because, amazingly, the man only has one balk in his entire career. One balk. I had no idea. The only pitchers in baseball who have thrown MORE innings than Mussina with one balk are three of the all-time greats, Pete Alexander, Lefty Grove and Carl Hubbell — and they hardly ever seemed to call balks back then. Mussina also is one of the best fielding pitchers in baseball history.

They are so alike, and yet Marichal has a much bigger reputation, maybe because of his remarkably low ERAs, his big-win seasons, his high leg-kick and some legendary moments. I’m not saying that Mussina is as great as Marichal was — I haven’t studied it that closely and anyway I think Marichal’s peak is clearly a higher than Mussina’s . But I do think that this gave me something to think about.* I do believe Mussina should be a Hall of Fame lock right now. And I’m wondering if he is simply the overlooked pitcher of our era, sort of the Blyleven of the time.

*OK, I believe you have gotten all of this week’s Vackie Conversation lines from the last post, so here are the answers in one place:

1. “Champagne — champagne cocktails.”
– That’s from Godfather II and the brilliant and drunk Frankie Pentangeli. Don’t worry about anything Frankie Five-Angels.

2. “You just went down a notch in my, in my book.”
– That’s not the best line in Diner, far from it, but for some reasons that’s the one we always use, the line when Boogie chooses Elvis Presley.

3. “I said they didn’t take me. And he said, that’s good.”
– You guys got this one even though I tried to punctuate it in a tricky way. That’s Springsteen, of course, and his introduction to “The River” on the live boxed set. The army didn’t take him. And his hard-nosed father said that’s good.

3. “What did you want me to do, catch it and rehabilitate it?”
– This is from Annie Hall, after Woody Allen kills a spider and Diane Keaton starts crying.

4. “This song is not a rebel song.”
– This song is Sunday Bloody Sunday.

5. “How come you don’t tell that nice girl you love her.”
– From the original Godfather, that’s Clemenza — “I love you with all-a my heart. If I don’t see you again soon, I’m-a-gonna die.”

6. “Two and two to Harvey Kuenn.”
– That’s Vin Scully for Koufax’s perfect game: “Two and two to Harvey Kuenn, one strike away. Sandy into his windup, here’s the pitch, swung on and missed. A perfect game!” And then Scully was silent for 38 seconds.

7. “You see this watch? You see this watch? This watch costs more than your car.”
– That’s from Alec Baldwin’s seminal scene in Glengarry Glen Ross. We actually use numerous lines from that soliloquy including “coffee is for closers,” “it takes brass balls,” and “ABC, always, be, closing.”

8. “They’re killing me, Whitey.”
– That is former NFL coach Lou Saban shouting to assistant Whitey Dovell, one of many classic NFL Films moments.

9. “It’s a lovely marriage of words and music.”
– That is indeed a Frank Sinatra preamble before “Send In The Clowns.” Which he MURDERS by the way. I mean it’s a lousy song to begin with, but something about that song brought out the worst of Ol’ Blue Eyes. I feel like I have to listen to Summer Wind about 20 times in a row just to get this clunker out of my head.

10. “How can I be the man when you’re the man?”
– That was the constant cry of Scott Ferrall, a talk radio guy, who we first heard in Atlanta, like, years ago. I haven’t heard him in many years so I don’t know if his shtick still works, but it was funny then.

11. “Good shot. I’m a good shot.”
– That’s Joe Pesci from Goodfellas and that’s as close as he gets to an apology after he kills a kid named Spider for making fun of him. Someone says, “He’s dead.” Pesci says, as an explainer, “Good shot. I’m a good shot.”

12. “Oh bless his heart, he’s got to be the sickest man in America.”
– That is Verne Lundquist in the seconds after Jackie Smith dropped a wide open touchdown pass in the Super Bowl.“

13. “My offer is this. Nothing.”
– This is Michael to the Senator Red Hot Poker in Godfather II and it was, as a couple of people pointed out, made famous again in “The Freshman,” which I think is actually quite a funny movie.

14. “Down goes Frazier.”
– Cosell, of course. From the Foreman-Frazier fight.

15. “There’s a gleam, men. There’s a gleam.”
– This is Marty Schottenheimer before a Cleveland Browns playoffs game. The thing I love about this is that Marty seemed to be building up to something — sort of his own Saint Crispin’s Day speech — only it just fizzled out entirely. The entire speech, best I can tell, was this: “There is a gleam, men! There’s a gleam. Go get the gleam. All right, let’s go.”

16. “And don’t you just love that Jack Ruby got into the garage.”
– This is from a classic bit from Dennis Miller long ago, when he wondered how local strip-joint owner Jack Ruby got into the garage where Lee Harvey Oswald was being transferred — and with a gun no less. I probably laughed about as hard as I’ve ever laughed at anything when he said that. It just hit me exactly right.

Football on the Radio

 

Many people romanticize baseball on the radio. Football is something else entirely. On Sunday, while I was driving home from the Big Red Machine reunion in Cincinnati*, I listened to the entire Kansas City Chiefs-New Orleans Saints game on my brand new “Best of Sirius” radio package. I cannot even remember the last time I listened to an entire NFL game on the radio. It was probably when I was a kid listening to the Cleveland Browns game through radio static. Bernie Kosar, when he was young, could throw with accuracy through static. Paul McDonald … not so much.

*Did I mention I’m writing a book on the 1975 Cincinnati Reds?

The Sirius package, though, comes in clear as an air horn, and listening for three hours reminded me that there are forgotten joys to football on the radio. Sure, everyone understands that football, at its core, is a television game. Or more to the point, it’s a VISUAL game, much more than any other American sport. And by visual I mean that when you see even a single NFL play, you are not really seeing it. No, you need to see it from a second angle, a third angle, a fourth and fifth sometime, to REALLY understand it, to see who missed the block, who was open but did not get picked up by the quarterbacks, who fell for the play-action and as such opened up the middle zone, who held the receiver after getting beat, who jumped into the hole too tentatively, who did not get both feet in bounds, on and on and on and on. There is a reason that coaches in football, unlike the coaches in any other sport I know, talk afterward about needing to see the film before they can fully discuss the events. They have no idea what happened. They need to see it on TV.

After a while, as a football viewer, you come to rely on replays, even when you’re at the game and watching live. In fact, there are few things more infuriating as a fan than watching a play and noticing something (it looked like he fumbled at the end; it looked like he might not have caught the ball; it looked like the receiver set a pick) and them NOT showing the replay. In football, replays are much more important than what you see live.

And that’s different. Baseball replays can come in handy — sometimes replays clarify a close play or finalize a fair/foul ball or show you just how badly a pitcher missed his spot on the home run — but I don’t think it’s the same thing. In baseball, replays simply validate what you saw or, in rare cases, contradict what you saw. But football, because it involves 22 men, all with their own unique jobs on every play, every replay tells a whole new story, it’s like watching a whole new play.

And so, I have grown used to that football-watching rhythm, grown used to seeing a play and then immediately looking up at the television to see what actually happened. I have grown used to appreciating the specifics of football, the smallest things, to observe where the Steelers blitzes are coming from, two see how Bill Belichick’s defense drops backs, to marvel at how Tony Gonzalez gets off the line of scrimmage, to groan as a safety jumps a short crossing route while a receiver runs open behind them, to watch a tackle lunge helplessly at a defensive end after getting beat off the snap.

Football on the radio strips the game down. It isn’t about specifics anymore. It’s all about the main thing. Baseball on radio opens up other worlds, there is time between pitches to tell stories, to relive history, to imagine trades, to get out of town scores, to throw out a little bit of trivia*. It’s all very relaxed and friendly and slow.

*You surely know this bit, but it’s still fun — you can put together an entire team of players who won back-to-back MVP awards: Before Bonds, it was a perfect team of nine (assuming you could put Murphy in left field — thanks to those who reminded about Hal Newhouser as the team’s pitcher):

1B: JImmie Foxx (1932-33), Frank Thomas (1993-94)
2B: Joe Morgan (1975-76)
SS: Ernie Banks (1958-59)
3B: Mike Schmidt (1980-81)
CF: Dale Murphy (1982-83), Mickey Mantle (1956-57)
LF: Barry Bonds (1992-93, 2001-04)
RF: Roger Maris (1960-61)
C: Yogi Berra (1954-55)
P: Hal Newhouser (1944-45)

In football on radio, the exact opposite is true, it’s all football in the moment — there isn’t TIME for anything else.* One play piles on top of another, faster and faster, and while football itself may be, as the old line goes, five seconds of action followed by 30 seconds of meetings, on the radio you NEED those 30 seconds just to explain what the heck happened.

*OK, so if I write, “This has GOT to be the alley-oop, there isn’t TIME for anything else” — you are probably enough of an NFL Films geek to appreciate the line. It comes from an old film when the old 49ers quarterback had to throw a high pass to receiver R.C. Owens. I love that line and use it in conversation with my buddy Vackie all the time. In fact, Vackie and I have about 250 different lines that come from various snippets of pop culture life and we use these lines constantly, and we constantly crack ourselves up with them, and we drive our wives absolutely up the wall. These lines include:

“Champagne — champagne cocktails.”
“You just went down a notch in my, in my book.”
“I said they didn’t take me. And he said, that’s good.”
“What did you want me to do, catch it and rehabilitate it?”
“This song is not a rebel song.”
“How come you don’t tell that nice girl you love her.”
“Two and two to Harvey Kuenn.”
“You see this watch? You see this watch? This watch costs more than your car.”
“They’re killing me, Whitey.”
“It’s a lovely marriage of words and music.”
“How can I be the man when you’re the man?”
“Good shot. I’m a good shot.”
“Oh bless his heart, he’s got to be the sickest man in America.”
“My offer is this. Nothing.”
“Down goes Frazier.”
“There’s a gleam, men. There’s a gleam.”
“And don’t you just love that Jack Ruby got into the garage.”

I suspect all friendships have lines like those (and I KNOW you can place them all). I figure good friends don’t even have conversations anymore — we just repeat lines over and over to each other, and this is somehow supposed to represent a conversation. Whenever my wife asks, “So you talked to Vackie, how’s he doing?” I realize that I have no idea, technically speaking, how he’s doing. But we did relieve that moment when Hawkeye ordered ribs from “Adam’s Rib” in Chicago.

So, anyway, listening to the Kansas City Chiefs on the radio clarified something I already knew but had never quite seen from the radio angle: Wow, they stink. It’s one thing to watch the Chiefs lose in person, to see the various close calls, to appreciate the small improvements, to see the individuals in action and appreciate how slight the difference is between a successful play and an unsuccessful one, to view things sympathetically through the eyes of coaches who are working hard.

On the radio, it’s so much plainer. The Chiefs defensive line gets NO pressure on the quarterback. The Chiefs offensive line can’t block well enough to get a third and 1. The Chiefs defensive line gets NO pressure on the quarterback. The Chiefs receivers don’t get open. The Chiefs special teams are awful. Chiefs coach Herm Edwards punted on fourth and a long one (or a short two, depending on if your an optimist/pessimist) in the fourth quarter from inside New Orleans territory — now, seriously, there is absolutely no reasonable reasoning for that.

Also the Chiefs get NO pressure on the quarterback.

Let’s focus on that for lack of pressure for a minute. You want a statistic that will blow your mind? Here goes: The Kansas City Chiefs have played 10 games. They have six sacks. That would be as a team. Six sacks. There are 19 individual PLAYERS in the NFL with six sacks or more. The Chiefs are on pace for TEN sacks all season, and that’s actually rounding up.

Fewest sacks for teams since 1969:
1. Baltimore Colts, 1982 (9-game season), 11
2. Buffalo Bulls, 1982 (9-game season), 12
3. Baltimore Colts, 1981, 13
4. New England Patriots, 1972 (14-game season), 14
5. New York Jets, 1976 (14-game season), 16
6. Los Angeles Rams, 1991, 17
7. Atlanta Falcons, 1987 (15-game season), 17
8. Philadelphia Eagles, 1975 (14-game season), 17
(tie) Buffalo Bills, 1977 (14-game season), 17
(tie), New Orleans Saints, 1970, 17

So as you can see, this year’s Chiefs team has a chance to be the least intimidating defense ever. And by quite a lot. And while that kind of historic ineptitude is hard to watch on television or in person, it’s absolutely staggering on the radio. Every single time the quarterback drops back, you hear the the announcer — in this case, the very informative Mitch Holthus — say, “Brees is back. He’s looking. He’s flushed from the pocked, and he’s looking. He’s still looking. He’s going to run, no, he’s still looking, still looking and he throws, complete for a first down.” It’s horrifying. It’s torturous. It’s like breaking up with your girlfriend/boyfriend, only in slow motion.

And it’s just plain, it’s stark, the voice on the radio will not negotiate. In person, on television, you might see that a defensive lineman got held, or you might feel a little bit of the tension, but on the radio that defensive line is just a dead battery. On the radio it feels like Drew Brees could stand back there for one hundred years and never be touched. On the radio you realize that a defensive line with two first round picks, one second rounder and one third rounder and a linebacking corps with a first-round pick and a former Pro Bowler is playing some of the worst football in the history of mankind. On the radio there are no reasonable excuses. Everyone involved deserves to be fired.

There are other things you get listening to football the radio, such as the “Real Men of Genius” commercials which, I sense, may have run their course. There is also an astonishing Pizza Hut commercial where, if I got the plot right, a man is taking his wife out for dinner. And she says, “Wow, this is great, we never go out.” She actually says this. And then she says, “Hey, why are we back home, did you forget something?” And he says, “Nope, surprise!” And it turns out that instead of going out, he has invited some people over to have PIZZA HUT PIZZA at the house. And this woman in the commercial, apparently, is supposed to be thrilled by this development.

I find this to be the single least believable commercial in the history of the world, and let’s face it there have been some remarkably unbelievable commercials through the years. I keep waiting for the follow up commercial where the couple gets divorced and she gets the house and the car but he gets the leftover pizza. I mean, is ANYBODY AT PIZZA HUT married? Even the actress in the commercial should have perked up and said, “Um, listen, um, I know we’re trying to sell this barely edible pizza and all, but you know, there isn’t a single woman alive who would be HAPPY to lose a night out so they could eat Pizza Hut with all of her husband’s jerky friends. Can we just shift the theme a little bit?”

When the game ended and the Chiefs had lost again, I turned to the Pittsburgh-San Diego game and listened to the Steelers broadcast for a while. I really started to enjoy the rhythm of radio football. Plus those Steelers guys are very entertaining, though half the fun was just listening to people with Pittsburgh accents talk for three hours. Also, I got to hear what a sack sounds like.

What did Delaware? Idaho. Alaska!

 

So, I was in Cincinnati for a reunion of the Big Red Machine — did I mention I’m writing a book? — and it was a lot of fun, and there were all sorts of hilarious items that I will try to share, but for the moment I have to discuss an important matter.

Namely: The sports jersey with your name on the back.

I think I have about 17 million of these jerseys now with my name on the back. The only one I bought for myself was, oddly enough, a personalized New York Islanders jersey that I bought when I was, like, 18 years old. I became a pretty big Islanders fan then because of my high school buddy Rob, and because I loved Mike Bossy. Also, I figured that since Cleveland no longer had a hockey team*, I was more or less free to pick and choose.

*Poor Cleveland Barons.

And because, I had inherited this horrendous sports legacy of Browns, Indians and Cavaliers — through no fault of my own — I felt like I DESERVED one winning franchise. Just one. I had earned that. So I picked the Islanders, who had won four consecutive Stanley Cups. Of course, as soon as I picked the Islanders, they stopped winning Stanley Cups, and the Edmonton Oilers took over, and I despised the OIlers and, then the Islanders became a fiasco, and yes, it is just abundantly clear that I am doomed to never, ever have any connection to a winning franchise.** It’s like my Superpower or something.

**Which reminds me that I have not really written about how my season is going as a Fulham FC fan in the Premier League. I suppose that I have not really had much to write about yet. I have been way too busy working my five jobs to really get into it, though I will say that have kept my eye on them and was happy to see Fulham finish off Tottenham-Hotspur on an Andrew Johnson goal in the second half. Is it cool to say someone scored in the second half in soccer or are you supposed to really break it down to the minute — Johnson scored in the 69th minute? Why don’t we do that in pro football? “And then in the 41st minute, Manning threw to Addai for the touchdown.” Why don’t we do that in baseball? “And then in the 179th minute, A-Rod homered to give the Yankees an 8-7 lead over Baltimore. That was the fourth inning.”

I still need to full integrate myself into Fulham life, but I do feel good about my choice. A good friend of mine Chuck Culpepper, who wrote this hilarious and wonderful book about being an American in English soccer, wrote to me from London to say that picking Fulham was a lot like picking the Atlanta Hawks as your favorite team — no great character, no great history and no real chance of breaking through. Yes, it seems like I have picked my kind of team.

ANYWAY, for reasons that would be pointless and confusing to explain, I have two Kansas City Royals jerseys, one Milwaukee Brewers jersey, one Cleveland Browns jersey, one Oakland Athletics jersey, one Atlanta Hawks jersey (yes), and, now, a 1975 Cincinnati Reds jersey, all with my name on the back. All of them were gifts of some kind. The personalized 1975 jersey, the latest addition to the closet, was a gift for spending a gargantuan amount of money to be at the Big Red Machine Reunion dinner*.

*For the money, I also got a personalized bottle of Makers Mark and in a sudden and bizarre turn, a handshake from pop singer Nick Lachey. Don’t even ask how that happened. He seemed like a nice guy though.

So here’s my problem: I obviously will not wear these personalized jerseys n public. They are pretty nice — the Brewers jersey in particular is VERY nice. But, come on, I can’t walk around wearing jerseys that have my name on the back, can I? Seriously, I need a ruling on this. It seems to me there is no cool way to walk around wearing a sports jersey with your name on the back. OK, maybe if your name is Johnson or James or Cobb or Urlacher you could get away with it. But man with my big honking name filling out my back, it makes me look like some kind of egomaniacal self-billboard. I keep thinking of that scene from City Slickers where Bruno Kirby wears that jacket with his own picture on it.

Billy Crystal: “I really wish you hadn’t worn that jacket.”
Kirby: What’s wrong with it?
Crystal: Look at it. It’s got your name and your picture on it. It’s a little grotesque.
Kirby: I’m proud of what I do.
Daniel Stern: So is the President — he doesn’t wear a picture on his suit.

So, what to do? I can’t really wear these jerseys. On the other hand, I can’t give them away — who would want a sports jersey with MY name on it? And I can’t give them to charity for the same obvious reason. Also, they were gifts.

What to do. The decisions of middle age. I’m driving back home today — and I’ll wear my 1975 Reds jersey. I think it’s OK to wear in the car. Also I’ll wear a jacket over it.*

*You know the joke from the headline, right? “If Mississippi bought Missouri a New Jersey, what will Delaware? Idaho. Alaska.” It’s big with the kids. Or, anyway, the kids from 1911.

Sunday Tidbits (3:50 p.m. updated)

 

Thought it might be fun to have sort of a live-blogging Sunday — just constant little updates throughout the day. Anyway, it sounds fun NOW (10 a.m. West Coast Time). It might not sound like much fun later in the day, but hey, let’s see how it goes:

* * *

9:57 p.m. Not sure if this Tidbits idea worked but hey, it’s over now.

Before calling it a night, though, I should say that I absolutely agreed with Herm Edwards’ decision to go for two at the end of the game. The Chiefs defense was shot, the offense wasn’t much better, and anyway San Diego should be a LOT better than the Chiefs. You get a two-point try to win, I very much respect a coach willing to take the shot.

Of course, I’m cool with the second guessers too — it’s fun to second guess. The one thing I DO NOT respect however are people who don’t second guess the DECISION to go but second guess the PLAY that was called. I’ve already gotten a few emails along those lines. They definitely would gone for two but they would have called something else — the Chiefs called a semi-rollout pass that was designed to get the ball to Tony Gonzalez. It failed miserably. “So fine he goes for it,” one emailer wrote, “but what the hell was that play call?”

So let me get this straight: You agree with going for two but you would have preferred a play that would have, you know, worked. Yeah. Good thinking.

* * *

3:57 p.m. Well, maybe that’s why they coach. Chiefs have ball first down at Chargers 45 now with two minutes left. So you could say the strategy paid off. I guess. We’ll see where it goes.

* * *

3:50 p.m. OK, here’s just where I disagree with coaches. It’s fourth down and five from the San Diego 45 yard line, Chiefs down a touchdown and there is less than five minutes left in the game. The Chiefs punted. I just don’t get it, I don’t. You are 1-8. There is absolutely nothing to lose. You aren’t going to get much more than 30 yards in field position — and that’s at most.

I don’t get it. Maybe it will work. The Chiefs just got a sack and look like they will get the ball back. But I still don’t get it.

* * *

3:40 p.m. Rivers just threw a touchdown pass to give the Chargers a 20-13 lead. The cannon fired. The Chargers are going to win this game, I suspect, but based on what I’ve seen they might want tone down their expectations around here. And, hey, there is still 6:55 left … you never want to give Tyler Thigpen that much time. Depending on who “you” are.

* * *

3:21 p.m. Another interception thrown by Phillip Rivers — this time it looked like Chiefs defensive lineman Tank Tyler got a piece of Rivers’ arm as he threw. That in itself is news — do you know how many sacks the Chiefs have this year? Um, that would be four. As in: 4.0.

* * *

2:25 p.m. Phillip Rivers must be reading the blog … he just threw one of the worst interceptions imaginable, one of those “Oh, I didn’t know they were playing with SAFETIES — that’s not FAIR!” interceptions.

The Chiefs promptly follow with one of those things that drive me absolutely insane … they got the ball with about a minute and a half left and three timeouts. They run the ball, a clear indication that they are trying to run out the clock and go into half leading. OK, I don’t agree with it but it’s a plan. THEN, though, after letting the clock run down, they throw the ball and get first down and quickly call a timeout. So now, apparently, they’re going to try and score. Then on first down nobody’s open so Tyler Thigpen runs out of bounds, and the Chiefs are back trying to run out the clock. I mean, make up your mind, show some commitment.

* * *

2:08 p.m.: Another horribly ill-advised pass by San Diego’s Phillip Rivers, another Chargers field goal, another firing of the cannon. Another thing they do in San Diego is play the “San Diego Super Chargers” song after every score.

The key lyrics:

San Diego Super Chargers!
San Diego Chargers!
San Diego Super Chargers!
San Diego Chargers!
Charge!

We’re coming your way,
We’re gonna dazzle you with our super play.
The time has come
You know we’re shooting for nu-u-u-mber one.
With thunderbolts and lightning
We’ll light up the sky,
We’ll give it all we’ve got, and more
With the Super Charger try!

The Super Charger try. Yeah.

* * *

1:48 p.m.: And the Chargers score a field goal — the cannon goes off. You know, I keep hearing how good Chargers quarterback Phillip Rivers is. And on television he looks great. But every time I see him actually play, he’s brutal. He just missed a wide open receiver on third down. I guess there are some athletes like that … who for whatever reason are either much better or much worse than normal when you see them. Maybe that’s a blog post later.

* * *

1:45 p.m.: Chiefs lead Chargers 7-0. The Tyler Thigpen Experience still seems to be working well. And the cannon has not gone off yet.

* * *

1:07 p.m.: They have a cannon here in San Diego that they fire every time the Chargers score. I have nothing personal against the Chargers. But I HATE that cannon and so hope they never score.

* * *

11:48 a.m.: So, I have to admit that I am enjoying the fact that the Detroit Lions are about to go 0-9 WAY more than I probably should. The reason for this is that my good friend Michael Rosenberg, Detroit Free Press columnist extraordinaire, was absolutely mocking me early in the year by saying that Chiefs would go winless and that I would be stuck chasing them around the country. You know, like I haven’t had to watch ENOUGH bad sports in Kansas City.

And now … yeah, it’s Rosey chasing the winless team around the country.

It reminds me of one my favorite media stories: This was before the Opening Ceremonies in Atlanta and we were discussing who might light the torch. And we somehow determined that it would probably be the great hurdler Edwin Moses. The reason we decided this, I think, is because the equally great Dayton columnist Tom Archdeacon was in our group, and basically we were busting his chops. Moses is from Dayton.

“Oh yeah, Arch, it’s going to be Edwin Moses, you better get ready. You’re going to have to write a huge story about Edwin Moses tonight on deadline. You better get ready.”

Arch looked a bit ashen, to be honest with you. It’s hard to imagine a tougher column to write than having to throw together a major, front page thing about Edwin Moses on about a six minute deadline. Then you would have to rewrite it. And rewrite it again. And again. The group, seeing that Arch looked genuinely worried, busted his chops even harder. And, as I remember it, the guy who was loudest and most passionate in the ribbing was current ESPN media-mogul Pat Forde. He was working for the Louisville Courier-Journal then, and he was just going on and on about it: “Oh yeah, Arch. What’s your deadline? 11:15? I’d say that Edwin Moses will run out there at about 11:13.” He was relishing Arch’s worry way, way, way, too much.

You know what’s coming of course. That night, Edwin Moses did participate in the torch-lighting ceremony. But you will note he did not light the torch. He was a flag bearer. No, the torch went from Evander Holyfield to Janet Evans and then we watched as Janet Evans took the torch to a trembling presence up at the top. … That trembling presence was, of course, Muhammad Ali.

Yeah, that would be Louisville’s Muhammad Ali.

At 3 a.m., after writing and re-writing his story about 20 times, Pat Forde made a call to a friend and shouted into the phone: “I just got screwed worse than any writer in the entire world.”

Justice, that’s what it was. Kind of like Detroit’s soon to be 0-9 record.

* * *

10:13 a.m.: Take a look at this …

2005: .388 OBP, 46 homers
2005: .387 OBP, 40 homers
2006: .365 OBP, 40 homers
2007: .386 OBP, 40 homers
2008: .386 OBP, 40 homers

That would be Adam Dunn. I don’t know if he likes baseball at all but he sure seems pretty consistent about it.

* * *

10:09 a.m.: OK, so how about this. I’m in San Diego, of course, and my buddy Pop Warner just texted me and said that since I have to stay out West for work stuff tomorrow, he can get us tickets to go see a conversation between Dave Eggers and John Hodgeman, and maybe an invitation to meet Eggers afterward. I have to do that, right? It’s probably too late for a poll on it but … I mean I have to do that, right?

* * *

10 a.m.: Wow, I’m noticing some serious cockiness in the San Diego papers before the Chiefs-Chargers game. Headline in The San Diego Union-Tribune: “Ripe for the kicking?” And there’s a column and an analysis basically demanding that the Chargers kick the living hell out of the Chiefs. I suspect that will happen — the Chiefs stinkiosity* is not a state secret — but hey, you know, the Chargers are pretty lousy too, they are coached by freaking Norv Turner, they gave up a billion points to the Saints last week. I mean there’s just something about a bad team acting like they’re not bad that is really irritating. At least the people around the Chiefs know their place.

*I remember there was this show once — I think it was that Kirk Cameron* show — where a high school girl wrote this article for the school paper, only she peppered it with all sorts of big words and high-fallutin’ phrases. The teacher said “This stinks.” And when she protested, he said, “Oh, I forgot who I was talking to. This paper perpetuates is replete in stinkiosity.” I always liked that. (Thanks to brilliant reader Matt for the correction).

**I guess Kirk Cameron is now a Christian Evangelist who has a daily radio show. Man, the things you learn from Wikipedia.

Gold vs. the Bible

 

OK, so you may know that I’m on the John Dewan Fielding Bible panel. I’ve been on the panel since the beginning despite my obvious lack of any sense. The panel this year included (among others):

Hal Richman: The man who invented Strat-o-Matic and — this is absolutely true — has been one of the most astute judges of baseball defense for many years. The Strat-o-Matic defensive rankings have, more often than not, been much more accurate than what has been out there as conventional wisdom. Hal, for instance, was one of the first to realize that Bernie Williams was a freaking lump in center field toward the middle/end of his career.

John Dewan: In my opinion, he and his people at Baseball Info Solutions are the cutting edge for studying defense. There are quirks in their system, of course, but basically they break down every single play, chart it, compare across the league, and I think the Dewan plus/minus comes closer than anything before to giving us a real sense for defensive performance.

Rob Neyer: The guy who writes all the Rob Neyer books.

Tom Tango Fan Poll: Uses results from the awesome defensive polling that Tom does on his site.

Bill James: The guy who writes all the Bill James books.

Mat Olkin: Stats wizard who consults several big league clubs.

Mike Murphy: Popular talk radio show host in Chicago and founding member of the Bleacher Bums.

Me: Unqualified.

The Gold Gloves, meanwhile, were voted on by managers and coaches. I’m not sure how seriously they take the voting, how much work they put into it, whatever. But they obviously see the players up close all the time, which is an advantage and disadvantage at the same time.

So, for fun, let’s compare the awards and see what we can pick up from it.

First base
AL GG: Carlos Pena, Rays
NL GG: Adrian Gonzalez, Padres
Fielding Bible: Albert Pujols, Cardinals

Comment: Everyone is in agreement that Pena is a good first baseman — he finished fourth overall in the Bible voting, though as a group we Fielding-Bible-Thumers all thought that Casey Kotchman AND Mark Teixeira, the two first baseman in last year’s big deal, were better defensively.

Huge disagreement in the National League, though. The Biblers are absolutely convinced as a group that Pujols has been the best defensive first baseman each of the last three years. And we didn’t even think Adrian Gonzalez was a Top 10 defensive first baseman.

To be honest, I’m not at all sure how this even happened — Pujols is SO good defensively, and he’s also the best hitter in baseball, I for the life of me cannot figure out why he keeps getting screwed on this award.

I have a guess, of course, and I realize it will sound crazy — but I doubt it’s as crazy as picking Adrian Gonzalez over Pujols in the first place. Here goes: I think Pujols keeps getting jobbed because he is right-handed. I’m being semi-serious here. I think a left-handed first baseman just fits the eye better. It LOOKS so much cooler. I think we imagine of slick fielding first baseman to be in the image of Keith Hernandez, Don Mattingly, Wes Parker, Mark Grace — sure, there have been righties who have won multiple Gold Gloves at first base like George Scott and Vic Power. But I still think there’s some rightism going on here.

Second base
AL GG: Dustin Pedroia, Red Sox
NL GG: Brandon Phillips, Reds
Fielding Bible: Brandon Phillips, Reds

We’re all more or less in agreement here. Brandon Phillips had a terrific year defensively. And Dustin Pedroia finished fourth in the Bible voting — in the American League he only finished behind Mark Ellis, who only played 117 games. We have peace in our time.

The biggest disagreement seems to be: How good a defensive player is Chase Utley? I picked him first overall because of his remarkable defensive numbers (the guy finished +47 in the Dewan this year, which was BY FAR the best total for any player at any position. That numbes means, on video observation, he made 47 more players than the average second baseman, which is staggering).

Thing is, many people think Utley is actually a very average or even below average second baseman. Hal Richman and the Tango Poll — two excellent sources — picked him 10th, and my Star partner Bob Dutton, who has a good feel for these things, watched Utley play during the playoffs and World Series and felt like he was pretty dreadful out there. Very weird.

Shortstop
AL GG: Michael Young, Rangers
NL GG: Jimmy Rollins, Phillies
Fielding Bible: Jimmy Rollins, Phillies

We all agree Rollins was terrific defensively, though I am a big fan of Atlanta’s Yunel Escobar and picked him No. 1 overall (with Rollins second). The Michael Young thing is, as mentioned, beyond explanation. He did not finish in the Top 10 in the Bible voting, and it’s worth pointing out again that I had never spoken to anyone in baseball who thought Young was a good defensive shortstop. This one just came out of nowhere*.

*Especially because Young was not even very good offensively in 2008. You know how sometimes a good offensive year will get the managers and coaches excited and make them overestimate a players defensive value and give him a Gold Glove (see Palmeiro, Rafael). Well, Young had his worst offensive year in quite a while. He hit .284/.339/.402 and punched up a 96 OPS+. He missed the All-Star Game for the first time in five years. Sorry, That was wrong. Either way, I have no idea how this happened to be honest with you.

Third Base
AL GG: Adrian Beltre, Mariners
NL GG: David Wright, Mets
Fielding Bible: Adrian Beltre, Mariners

Beltre was an almost unanimous choice in the Bible — he got first place on eight out of 10 ballots, and second place on the Tange Poll behind the estimable Scott Rolen.

It’s interesting, the general perception is that the National League has significantly better defensive shortstops — Rollins, Hardy, Escobar, Jack Wilson, Cesar Izturis, etc. But I would say that most believe the American League has the better third basemen with Beltre, Longoria, Rolen, Crede, Jack Hannahan. The Bible voters, for instance, would have given Wright the NL award too, but he finished sixth overall.

Left field
AL GG: None
NL GG: None
Fielding Bible: Carl Crawford, Rays

One of these days, the Rawlings Gold Glove people will realize that they really should stop lumping all outfielders. It’s ridiculous, really. All six Gold Glove outfielders were center fielders (Ichiro did move back to right at some point) — which is absolutely absurd. There were only 20 center fielders (again, including Ichiro) who played enough games to qualify for the ESPN fielding statistics, and SIX of them won Gold Gloves, about one in three. If you play center field in the big leagues, winning a Gold Glove is like being the seventh caller to the radio station.

Carl Crawford is obviously a bit of an oddity — he’s a left fielder who has the speed and instincts to play center. He has been, by far, the best defensive left fielder in the game for years. He has never won a Gold Glove.

Center field
AL GG: Grady Sizemore, Indians; Torii Hunter, Angels; Ichiro (part-time), Mariners.
NL GG: Shane Victorino, Phillies; Carlos Beltran, Mets; Nate McClouth, Mistake.
Fielding Bible: Carlos Beltran, Mets.

I think it’s a shame that they picked three center fielders in the American League (including Ichiro) but failed to pick the best one, since that was clearly Minnesota’s Carlos Gomez. I picked Gomez second in baseball behind Beltran, but everyone here knows how much in the tank I am for Beltran. Throw some lie-detector wires on me, I might tell you that Gomez is even better; he’s a defensive phenomenon really. He gets to everything, and he plays with all kinds of crazy energy; I find it hard to believe that the managers missed that. Torii Hunter has aged to the point where I would now describe him as a “classy” center fielder* but Gomez is what Hunter was eight years ago.

*Brilliant centerfielders age to become classy centerfielders. Beautiful women age to become classy women.

We all agree on Sizemore and Beltran — they’re terrific defensively. It seems to me the managers fell a bit too in love with Victorino, but you can see why. He’s the kind of player managers and coaches love — “I wish we had one of THOSE on our team.”

Nate McClouth is, as mentioned on a previous post, such a bad choice that it defies explanation — he makes Michael Young look like Ozzie. McLouth scored a minus-40 on the Dewan, making him the least effective defensive player in baseball. You may not believe in the Dewan system — hey, McLouth made only one error — but there’s no way that it could be THAT WRONG. The system says very clearly that Nate McLouth needs to be taken out of center field immediately before more people get hurt. Meanwhile, the managers and coaches gave him a Gold Glove. Crazy.

Right field
AL GG: Ichiro (part time), Mariners
NL GG: None
Fielding Bible: Franklin Gutierrez, Indians.

I was talking the other day about the Kansas City Royals and how they seem to only be chasing players who have low on-base percentages. And in the middle of it, I seemed to downgrade Frankie Gutierrez. So let me clarify my position a little bit — I like Gutierrez a lot and think he would actually be an excellent pickup for someone, even the Royals. He is a superior right fielder and, you would expect, he would be an outstanding center fielder. And he hit pretty well the last month and a half or so of the season. And he’s still pretty young, and he has some offensive talents. I wasn’t trying to downplay those talents — I’m actually a fan — I was just making the point that the Royals, after harping on on-base percentage, have not publicly targeted a single person with even a league average on-base percentage.*

*A couple of people have brought up that the Royals, in addition to their stunning lack of on-base percentage, also have a tremendous lack of slugging percentage and so why not concentrate on that?

They certainly can and should concentrate on adding some power, especially from within (i.e. Give Kila Ka’ahue a real chance to be your starting first baseman). But there are two reasons why I don’t think it’s nearly as important as improving their on-base percentage.

1. OBP is significantly more important than slugging when it comes to scoring runs.

2. The Royals, by virtue of their payroll problems, cannot afford to build their team around other people’s sluggers.

Catcher
AL GG: Joe Mauer, Twins
NL GG: Yadier Molina, Cardinals
Fielding Bible: Yadier Molina, Cardinals

There is mostly agreement here, though the Dewan people who watch every play are not particularly impressed with Mauer’s defense. I thought — looking at the numbers and from my own observation — that Kurt Suzuki had a fabulous defensive year. He threw out 37% of stolen base attempts which is excellent, he only made four errors, he only had five passed balls, he seemed nimble and solid behind the plate to me. But nobody really seems to agree with me.

Pitcher
AL GG: Mike Mussina, Yankees
NL GG: Greg Maddux, (Soon to be retired?)
Fielding Bible: Kenny Rogers, Tigers

The fact that they give out a Gold Glove to freaking pitchers, who are not allowed to catch their own pop-ups, but don’t give one out to left or right fielders is really a disgrace. I’m writing my congressman.

Reliever Ratings 2008

 

One of the great things about being a voter on John Dewan’s Fielding Bible panel is I get my Bill James Handbook before it is sold into stores. I love getting stuff early. And, more, I love my Bill James Handbook. Every year they add some great new statistic like one that breaks down how managers do their jobs:

Least effective intentional walkers in 2008 (bomb reflects multiple runs scoring after the walk):

1. Ron Washington (Texas), 20 out of 44 bombed (45.4%)
2. Eric Wedge (Cleveland), 11 out of 28 bombed (39.2%)
3. Cito Gaston (Toronto), 6 out of 16 bombed (37.5%)
4. Bud Black (San Diego), 17 out of 61 bombed (27.9%)
5. Joe Maddon (Tampa Bay), 8 out of 29 bombed (27.6%)
6. Dave Trembley (Baltimore), 12 out of 44 bombed (27.2%)
7. Bobby Cox (Atlanta), 20 out of 80 bombed (25%)

The best intentional walker? Tony La Russa, of course. Only one out of 21 bombed.

The book will break down other things, like the best base runners:

The 2008 best baserunners, excluding stolen bases:*

This list would measure going the number of extra bases a runner gets going from first to third on a single (average runner makes it 27% of the time) second to home on a single (average runner makes it about 59% of the time), first to home on a double (average runner makes it 43% of the time) and also takes into account the extra bases picked up on wild pitches, passed balls, balks, sac flies:

1. Matt Holliday, +28
(Holliday was 15 for 26 going first to third which is amazingly good, 17 for 24 going second to home, 5 for 6 scoring on a double from first, and he took 23 bases, which is a lot. True, you could argue that Holliday is helped by the immense size of Coors Field, but really the guy’s an excellent baserunner).
2. Curtis Granderson, +27
3. Nate McLouth+27
(The Gold Glove was a farce, but he’s a really good ballplayer)
4. Kelly Johnson +26
5. Shin-Soo-Choo, +26

Every year, like I say, they add all sorts of fun new statistical additions to the the handbook. This year, they added a section called “21st Century Bullpen” which breaks down relievers and makes the very logical case that in today’s baseball, bullpen pitchers probably should be assigned positions since they do such very, very different jobs. We already have closers, and then we have a vague collection of set-up men, lefty-specialists, long-men, guys who you bring in to get double play grounders, bridges and so on. And we try to judge them all, more or less, on the same outdated statistics like ERA and won-loss record, and this is absurd.

Anyway, Bill has some real ideas about fixing that, and you HAVE to buy the book and read all about it. For today, I’m more concerned with something else Bill and the guys did: They took all the closers and broke up their their save opportunities into three simple categories:

1. Easy Save. This is a save when the first batter faced is not the tying or go-ahead run.
2. Tough save: This is a save when the tying or go ahead run is already on base when you take over.
3. Regular save: Everything else.

Simple enough. Here’s a little info on each type of save.

1. Easy save: This represents more than half — 58% to be exact — of all save opportunities. And last year all relievers were successful on 87% of their easy save opportunities. Remember, that’s ALL relievers — not just specified closers. People who you would describe as closers (pitchers who had more than 10 save opportunities last year) were actually successful about 92% of the time — or to put it in perspective, more often than almost any NBA player make free throws or field goal kickers make 30-yard field goals. A real closer should not blow easy saves.

2. Tough save: Almost never happens anymore — except with Mariano Rivera who was five-for-five in tough save opportunities last year.Most managers bring the closer in to start a clean ninth inning, so tough saves only happen about 5% of the time. And relievers finish them off about 22% of the time. Again, full-time closers do considerably better than that — they close out about 55% of tough saves.

3. Regular save. Most people would call a regular save a “tough” save because, in most cases it would mean starting the ninth inning with just a one-run lead. Regular saves make up 37% of all save opportunities, and all relievers close them out 57% of the time. Real closers finish them off 72.5% of the time — as they should since, for the most part, real closers get paid more money.

OK, so this is what we’re working with. So, naturally, I had to come up with an utterly meaningless formula to determine who is the best closer because, you know, that’s what I do. Using the percentages Bill offered, I figured out how many more (or fewer) saves a closer than a replacement closer. And then, using my utterly inept math skills, I came up with a CLOSER+ number that attempts to tell you how much better a closer is than average. The average, of course, is 100.

Here goes nothing:

Best closers in 2008 (20 or more save opportunities)

1. Mariano Rivera, Yankees
Expected saves: 27
Actual saves: 39
CLOSER+: 145

I’m was thinking about doing a bigger piece on Mariano Rivera — I’m fascinating by the guy’s ability to get people out for a decade and more with, essentially, one pitch. Plus, I have this theory that I’m working on that Rivera has been even more valuable than his reputation, but for a very odd reason. My thinking is this: Because Rivera has been SO good, there have been very, very, very, very few back pages of the New York Post or New York Daily News that read like this:

Down The River-a
Yankees Blow Game In Ninth

or

BOMBERS BOMBED
Mariano falters late and Pinstripers Lose Again

See, we all know that nothing sucks the life out of a fan base more than the local heroes blowing a late lead. I don’t know if it has a measurable effect on the team — I haven’t studied it — but it definitely seems to have an effect on the general atmosphere, the energy level, the manager’s enthusiasm, the talk radio tenor and so on. These things are multiplied in New York. And basically, in the case of Mariano, one guy has more or less eliminated that negativity from the equation.

I don’t know … just something I’ve been thinking about.

2. Brad Lidge, Phillies
Expected saves: 31
Actual saves: 41
CLOSER+: 132

I got the nicest call from Brad Lidge’s grandmother the other day. In this crazy business, you get all sorts of phone calls, from people who hate your guts, to people who love you, to people want something you don’t have (like free tickets or time with Tiger Woods). But then you get a nice call from Brad Lidge’s grandmother, and it’s just, you know, nice.

3. Jonathan Papelbon, Red Sox
Expected saves: 31
Actual saves: 41
CLOSER+: 129

The formula goes goes into fractions which is why Papelbon’s expected and actual saves are the same as Lidge’s but his CLOSER+ is a touch lower. At least I think that’s the reason. Papelbon was four for four in tough saves, which is much better than Lidge (who was not given a tough save opportunity all year). But he was just 15 for 20 on regular saves (while Lidge, of course, did not blow a save opportunity all year long).

4. Joakim Soria, Royals
Expected saves: 32
Actual saves: 42
CLOSER+: 128

I go back and forth, back and forth, back and forth on whether or not the Royals should try to make Soria a starter. I talk with one person who says they should and that makes sense to me for all the reasons you might expect:

– A great starter is much more valuable than a great closer.
– Soria came up as a starter and has multiple pitches and such an easy deliver that he seems a natural.
– Think about a Soria-Greinke-Meche rotation — that’s a pretty exciting thing. That, potentially anyway, could be up there with any team in baseball. Throw in a seemingly rejuvenated (or maybe just “juvenated”) Kyle Davies, and our beloved Banny, and the No. 1 pick of the 2006 draft, I mean, yeah, that would be exciting.
– If it doesn’t work for whatever reason, put him back.
– I get the sense — though he’s a tough guy to read — that Soria would like to be a starter.

So, I’m on that bandwagon. Then I talk to someone else who says there’s no way the Royals should make him a starter, and I find myself nodding — that makes too for all the reasons you might expect:

– Soria is already a dominant closer and there’s no telling how he would be as a starter. You don’t fool with one of the few things you have done right in a decade.
– There are very, very, very, very few examples of a guy who begins his career as dominant closer being made into a dominant starter. In fact, when I went back to try and find one, I pretty much rolled snake eyes.
– If he fails as a starter, you may ruin him as a closer too. You may not, but there’s always a risk. Part of Soria’s brilliance seems to be that he feels invincible. You would hate to mess with that.
– There’s a great feeling in the clubhouse with Soria closing things out — everyone knows that if they get to the late innings with a lead they will almost certainly win. You would hate to mess with that either.
– Who would close? Hochevar? Ram Ram? Jeff Montgomery?

Both of these line of thinking make some sense to me. So, in the end, where do I come down? I would say that at this moment, if I’m playing with someone else’s money, yeah, I would at least try to make Soria a starter. I think it would have an excellent chance of working, and I think if it didn’t work for some reason I think he would be able to regain his dominance in the pen. Plus … I’m serious, how can you not get excited about a Soria-Greinke-Meche top three?

Of course, I could be convinced otherwise.

5. C.J. Wilson, Texas
Expected saves: 19
Actual saves: 24
CLOSER+: 126

6. Brian Wilson, San Francisco
Expected Saves 33
Actual saves: 41
CLOSER+: 125

Lyin’ in bed just like Brian Wilson did
Well I am …
Lyin’ in bed just like Brian Wilson did

So I’m a-lying here, just staring at the ceiling tiles
and I’m thinking about, oh, what to think about
Just listening and relistening to Smiley Smile
And I’m wondering if this some kind of creative drought

7. Joe Nathan, Twins
Expected saves: 31
Actual saves: 39
CLOSER+: 124

8. Bobby Jenks, White Sox
Expected saves: 24
Actual Saves: 30
CLOSER+: 122

9. K-Rod, Angels
Expected saves: 52
Actual saves: 62
CLOSER+ 119

He had one tough save all year — which he converted — and he was slightly better than the average closer on the easy and regular saves. I’m not sure how other relievers would have handled 69 save opportunities from a mental standpoint. And it’s significant that he pitched on consecutive days 29 times, more than any other closer. But from a pure pitching quality standpoint, I think there are about probably 10 to 15 other pitchers who, given the same opportunities as K-Rod, would have smashed the save record last year.

10. Brian Fuentes
Expected saves: 25
Actual saves: 30
CLOSER+: 119

And a quick list of worst closers, 20 or more opportunities:

Worst: J.J. Putz, Seattle
Expected saves: 16
Actual saves: 15
CLOSER+: 94

The CLOSER+ number is a bit misleading because a 100 closer is actually pretty lousy. The number 100 comes from the average of ALL relievers, not just closers. An average “closer” is actually closer to 115. If that makes any sense at all. Which I’m sure it doesn’t.

Other struggling closers in 2008: Billy Wagner (100 CLOSER+), Ryan Franklin (100 CLOSER+) and Jonathan Broxton (103 CLOSER+).

Not So Hot Stove Talk

 

Wow, yeah, the commenting on that last post got pretty nasty — probably the nastiest I’ve seen round these parts since the great Chief Wahoo debate. No, really, it got even nastier than that. I even had to delete two comments that broke my Hitler rule — first time I’ve ever had to do that. Finally, as you may have seen, I just closed it off. The talk was going nowhere but down. I saw Tuesday as a day to say, regardless of politics, “Look how far America has come.” Others saw it as a day when the majority of Americans were duped by a potentially sinister force. Everyone has had their say now. We’ll go back to baseball.

Emotional times.

* * *

So you know that Royals GM Dayton Moore has talked pointedly about improving the Kansas City Royals on-base percentage in 2009. And then you know the Royals traded for Mike Jacobs, a first baseman who had a .299 on-base percentage last year. I didn’t like the move at all — not so much because of the specific trade itself but because I think that every baseball move, especially relatively major moves that will affect the big league club, should fit into a larger plan. My gut feeling is that this did not fit into any plan. My gut feeling is that some people in the organization kind of liked Mike Jacobs, the 32 homers he hit last year looked juicy, and they grabbed him. I think that sort of narrow strategy fails more than it succeeds.*

*And I know some people see Jacobs as a future trade chip … I don’t see that at all. The Royals got Jacobs for a reliever who doesn’t strike out batters and has had injury issues. What makes anyone think that teams out there at deadline time will be dying to get Mike Jacobs?

But Jacobs is just one man. Here are three Hot Stove rumors the Royals have been involved with:

1. A trade for Jeff Francoeur (A pitcher like Luke Hochevar?).
2. A trade for Yuniesky Betancourt (Billy Butler?).
3. A trade for someone like Cleveland’s Franklin Gutierrez (Mark Teahen?)

Now, let’s say right up front that NONE of these will happen. Right? Please? Trades are tough to pull off, and I would like to believe that this is just idle talk, and the Royals don’t really want to make any of those moves. Frankly. if the Royals really would trade to get 28-year-old arbitration eligible Mike Jacobs and then trade away 22-year-old Billy Butler … well, they wouldn’t. I feel confident in saying they woudn’t do that. They just wouldnt’ do that. And also, they would not do that.

But let’s say that these rumors are based in some reality — let’s say that the Royals have at least thought seriously about each of these moves. That — the idea that the Royals actually would TARGET these players — is a much, much scarier proposition that just dealing for Mike Jacobs. Heck, even I’ll admit that Jacobs could help the club — especially if the Royals would limit his at-bats (never, and I mean NEVER put him out there against a lefty), if they would bat him down in the lineup, if they would limit his exposure at first base. I don’t think the Royals will do these things, but they certainly could.

Thing is, if the Royals really want Francoeur and Betancourt and Gutierrez — um, that’s a very, very bad sign that the on-base percentage talk is just talk. Imagine this lineup:

LF: David DeJesus (.360 lifetime on-base percentage)
2B: Mike Aviles (.354 — in 419 career at-bats)
RF: Jeff Francoeur (.312)
DH: Jose Guillen (.323 and falling fast)
1B: Mike Jacobs (.318 — and OBP has fallen every season in the big leagues)
3B: Alex Gordon (.332 though improving — he could move up in the lineup)
CF: Franklin Gutierrez (.308 — in 807 at-bats)
C: Miguel Olivo (.275 OBP — the Royals just named him the starter).
SS: Yuniesky Betancourt (.305 OBP)

This, we are led to believe, is the Royals dream lineup for 2009. That’s just about as bad an OBP lineup as you could possibly put out there without creating an actual mutiny. I think I know Dayton Moore. He just wouldn’t do that. Yes, he traded for Mike Jacobs. Yes they re-signed Miguel Olivo and named him the starter. Yes these rumors are more than a little bit scary. But … I think that Dayton is a smart baseball man. I think he’s just a bit frustrated last season did not go better and he’s eager to do SOMETHING and that has made him a little bit edgy to start the off-season. I expect he will settle in. The Royals really do have a promising team right now — Bill James says they could win 85 to 90 games next year with what they already have. I’m not sure I’m willing to go to 90 games, but with some breaks I think they could break .500. Just: Stay with the plan.

Remember: OBP. OBP. OBP.

* * *

OK, so Jeff Francoeur had a 72 OPS+ last year, which is, well, you know, abysmal. My question is: Can he really rebound from that? I hear from numerous scouts that he will because of, you know, his will, his leadership, his intensity, whatever. But that’s not my question. What I mean is, historically, has any young outfielder ever had a 72 OPS+ type season and then gone on to great success?

Well, it seems that nineteen young outfielders (25 and younger) have had a 75 OPS+ or worse since the end of World War II.

Of the 19, Johnny Damon (who had a 73 OPS+ his first full season) went on to a great career. Of course, Damon is a very different player from Francoeur and he also had his dreadful season when he was, essentially, a rookie. Lloyd Moseby and Brian McRae had some good seasons after their bad one.

Who else/ Endy Chavez made a really nice catch in the playoffs. Omar Moreno led the league in plate appearances, stolen bases, outs and caught stealing multiple times. Juan Pierre became Juan Pierre.

Vince Coleman stole a lot of bases.

Del Unser proved useful in a part-time role later in his career. Dan Meyer was even better than useful for expansion Seattle in ‘77 — he fought with Ruppert Jones and Leroy Stanton for the MVP of that first Mariners team (Stanton probably was the MVP).

Rick Manning (who TWICE sunk below 75 OPS+ before he was 26) proved to be a hero to a certain politically-challenged blogger, and Willy Taveras (who also went sub-75 twice) inspired this Buck O’Neil exchange:

Buck: This guy looks like Willie Mays.
Me: Really? This guy? You think so?
Buck: No, I mean he LOOKS like Willie Mays. Look at his face.

Darren Lewis managed to get 4,081 at-bats with a career OPS+ of 72. That’s flat amazing stuff.

Most career at-bats for an outfielder with a sub-75 OPS+.

1. Darren Lewis, 4,081
2. Tom Goodwin, 3,846
3. Brian Hunter, 3,347
4. Tony Scott, 2,804
5. Eric Owens, 2,353

Jim Busby hit .300 one year, hit 12 homers one year, stole 26 bases one year. They weren’t the same year.

Chuck Carr stole 58 bases the year he had a 74 OPS+ so he was given another thousand or so at-bats. Rick Bosetti was never given another chance. Mike Hershberger stuck around for quite a while and had a nice year as a part-timer with Oakland in ‘68. Eric Yelding stole 64 bases, which allowed him to get a few more at-bats despite his lifetime 66 OPS+. Peter Bergeron petered out badly — he followed his awful full season with a .211/.275/.285 in 375 at-bats.

Whitey Herzog learned to walk in part-time duty and became an excellent manager.

So, based on this, I would say that based on precedent, no, Francoeur cannot come back from this.

* * *

OK, so all along I thought that the reason Derek Jeter kept getting Gold Gloves, against pretty much all logic, was because of his name, his charisma, his batting average, his ability to make that cool-looking jump throw.

But, apparently, it has nothing to do with that. Apparently the reason Derek Jeter kept winning Gold Gloves is … American League managers and coaches have absolutely NO IDEA what a good defensive shortstop looks like.

I say this because they just gave Texas’ Michael Young a Gold Glove. That’s not a misprint. Michael Young.

Here are Michael Young’s Dewan plus/minus numbers the last three years:

2006: -10 (28th in baseball)
2007: -15 (32nd in baseball)
2008: -7 (27th in baseball).

So, according to those numbers, Michael Young has pretty consistently been a well below average defensive shortstop. And that certainly has been his reputation. There are, to be fair, other defensive numbers where Young performs better — his 4.59 range factor this year was fourth among everyday shortstops and he only made 11 errors.

But the reason this one is so shocking is that, as far as I can tell, NOBODY EVER THOUGHT he was a good defensive shortstop. I’m not even considering numbers. That’s based on old-fashioned baseball scouting. The best thing I’ve ever heard a scout say about him is that he’s average defensively. That’s the best thing. Most scouts I’ve talked to think he’s a second baseman masquerading as a shortstop, he doesn’t have the arm for the position, he can’t go to his left at all, he’s shaky going back on pop-ups and so on.

The interesting thing — and the reason that the AL shortstop Gold Glove is such a cluster every year — is that no shortstop in the American League has grabbed the title as a great defensive shortstop. Bill James ranked Erick Aybar as the best defensive shortstop in all of baseball, but he only played 96 games last year. Orlando Cabrera still plays it pretty well, though he’s aging. Do you know who led all American League shortstops in Dewan plus/minus last year? That would be Kansas City’s rookie Mike Aviles.*

*That probably shows there’s a kink in the system — Aviles is adequate at short, I think, because he has a good arm and positions himself pretty well. But I don’t think anyone, including Aviles himself, thinks he’s special defensively.

So, yes, AL Gold Glove at shortstop is definitely a vacant title … but Michael Young? Really?*

*And I should add here that Young did not even have a good offensive season. He hit .284/.339/.402 in a great hitters park.

* * *

Brilliant Reader Justin makes a Gold Glove point that I left out — Pittsburgh center fielder Nate McLouth won a Gold Glove. It might be the worst choice in the history of the award.

From Justin:

Nate McLouth, who at an astounding mind-blowing -40..

that’s MINUS-FORTY…

… in center field, is the proud recipient of an NL gold glove. I think -40 is the very lowest figure in baseball this year at any position; it’s certainly in the bottom five.

In a way this is even worse than giving Rafael Palmeiro a gold glove the year he mostly DH’d, because, you know, at least they didn’t KNOW what kind of fielder Palmeiro was.

Justin is absolutely right. I’m looking at my Dewan Plus/Minus leaders here and Nate McLouth was absolutely the worst defensive player in baseball last year.

Nate McLouth, -40 in center.
Brad Hawpe, -37 in right
Mike Jacobs, -27 at first base (but he hit 32 homers!)
Jim Edmonds, -26 in center (in part because he’s 294 years old)
Delmon Young, -25 in left
Pat Burrell, -20 in left

I’m trying to imagine how this happened, how the single least effective defensive player in the game won a Gold Glove. i think it comes down to a single number: 1. That would be the number of errors Nate McLouth made this year. That means when he got to a ball, he caught it. I’ve always said it: Managers, most of the ones I know, are drawn to players who don’t do stupid things, even if they don’t do especially good things either.

Also Nate did have a nice offensive year.

* * *

I have come up with a new relief pitcher formula that I was going to unveil here but instead I’ll make it a separate post later today.

Feller

 

I was 13 of 14 years old the first time I talked to Bob Feller. This was at a baseball card show in North Carolina, and he was sitting behind a table and preparing to sign autographs. In memory, he was charging to sign those autographs, but charging so little that it hardly seemed worth the point — like a dollar or something per autograph. It was at that show that a dealer told me that Feller signed so many autographs, that a baseball WITHOUT his signature on it was more valuable than one with it.

No matter what he was charging, I recall that nobody was standing in line. People would walk by and, on occasion, nod at Feller. Then they kept walking. I distinctly remember how sad it made me feel … I had grown up in Cleveland on the story of Bob Feller. It seems like I had always been aware of him, the outline of story, how he grew up on an Iowa farm, how his father Bill had raised him to be a pitcher, how he threw so hard at a young age that his fastball broke through a board on the family barn like in The Natural, how he came to Cleveland on a train when he was 17 years old and frightened much older men with his untamed fastball and the buzzing sound his curveball made. Now, he sat alone in a dark warehouse in Charlotte, N.C., and he watched people avoid his gaze, like he was homeless and begging for change, or anyway that’s how it looked to a 13 or 14 year old boy.

Funny, though, Feller did not seem troubled at all by the odd circumstances. He looked right at home. He chatted amiably with whoever happened to be standing around the table. I guess he was in his young 60s then, and he still had that vitality — he turned to me and said, “So tell me, who is the greatest pitcher of all time?”

I was shaken. I had not prepared for a pop quiz. Best pitcher ever? I was a kid. Knew nothing about “ever.” I wanted to impress him, though, to say something wiser than a typical 13- or 14-year-old might say, to pick someone from before I was born. I said, shakily, ”Sandy Koufax.“

“Koufax?” he boomed. Feller shook his head in pure disgust. That was apparently the wrong answer.

”How many games did Koufax win?“ he asked, and there was a hard edge in his voice. “What did he win? One hundred fifty games?” I didn’t have the number at my fingertips. Then Feller pulled out a sheet of paper and shoved it into my hands, and he said, “Look at this, kid.”

I looked at it. The sheet of paper looked a little bit like the back of a baseball card — it had all of these statistics on it. The sheet of paper had a title on it that was something like, “Bob Feller’s career numbers had it not been for World War II.” And then it had Bob Feller’s basic pitching statistics year-by-year — wins, losses, ERA, strikeouts, walks, innings pitched — only the numbers from 1942-45, those four seasons, were in bold type. On the bottom, Feller’s new career totals were in bold too. On the sheet of paper, Bob Feller won 373 games in his career. He struck out 3,651 men. He threw five no-hitters. These were mind-boggling numbers.

“I didn’t have anything to do with this; it was figured out by an analyst,” he said, and he made “analyst,” sound like some combination of brain surgeon, rocket scientist and Pope. I nodded. it did not occur me then how odd it was that he said, “I didn’t have anything to do with that.” He obviously had made copies of the analysts work, and he was handing out those copies to people at baseball card shows. He was hardly an unwitting spectator here.

Then, in my fuzzy memory, Bob Feller said that these would have been his numbers had he not been off at war, fighting Germany and Japan — you heard of those countries? — these would have been his numbers had he not volunteered the day after Pearl Harbor and fought so that I could have my freedom. But to be honest he might not have said any of that then — I could be confusing the moment with other times I have spoken with Bob Feller.

I do remember for certain that he took the sheet from me and looked at those numbers again with a look of amazement. The real Bob Feller won 266 games and struck out 2,581 batters and threw a fastball as hard as any man. The other Bob Feller won as many games as Christy Mathewson and Grover Cleveland Alexander. The other Bob Feller, the peacetime Bob Feller, would have retired with the all-time strikeout record. The other Bob Feller might have been though of like DiMaggio and Ruth and Cobb, and he probably would not have been at a baseball card show signing autographs for pennies and working to convince kids with thick glasses of his greatness.

And I realized that the answer he had been looking for — greatest pitcher, ever — was, in fact, Bob Feller.

* * *

Bob Feller turned 90 on Monday, and looking back now I do think Feller has a claim on that best-pitcher-ever title. He did, in fact, lose what could have been his prime pitching years to war. His beloved analyst may have exaggerated Feller’s fanciful numbers or he may have underestimated them, there’s no way to know, but it seems clear that a 23-year-old Bob Feller in a world at peace could have done some remarkable and perhaps unprecedented baseball things.

He led the American league in wins, innings and strikeouts every year he pitched from 1939 to 1947. He finished second in shutouts in 1939, otherwise he would have led the league in shutouts all those years too. He won the 1940 Pitcher Triple Crown — most wins, lowest ERA, most strikeouts — and became the first right handed pitcher to do that in the American League since Walter Johnson. He became the first man to throw three no-hitters; one of those was on an Opening Day which leads to one of those Bob Feller stories that make him such a tough man to pin down.

“Hey, Bob,” a radio talk show caller said — Bob Feller was the guest on the show. “I’ve got a trivia question for you.”

“Go ahead” Feller said.

“OK, can you name the only pitcher who ever went into a game and came out of it with the exact same ERA,” the guy said.

“You asked it wrong!” Feller barked, and he sounded angry. “That’s not how it goes! The question is — and try to remember this for next time — ”Name the only game where everybody on the team came out of the game with the exact same batting average as they had going in.“ That was the Opening Day no-hitter.”

He paused, and you could only imagine him snarling just a little bit.

“And the pitcher that day,” he said, “was me.”

Well, as Feller would tell the crowd the day after I poked a little fun at him in the newspaper, “If you don’t promote yourself, who will?” And I’ve always had an appreciation for that. I suspect that Feller never felt appreciated enough, and I think that, in the end, he’s probably right: People who love baseball have been too willing to forget Bob Feller. People remember DiMaggio and Williams, Mantle and Mays, Koufax and Seaver, but Feller often gets lost in the rewind. The first full season he came back, after more than four years at war, Feller won 26 games, he pumped up a 2.18 ERA, and he struck out 348 batters, one shy of Rube Waddell’s modern record. True that was a great pitcher’s year, certainly compared to the times before the war, but it still left behind lingering dreams of how good Bob Feller should have been.

* * *

“You know what we should do to these countries in the Middle East?” Bob Feller was saying to me. If you have been a collector of prickly Bob Feller quotes, you can surely guess what followed. By then, Feller was in his 70s, and he was reliably quotable any time you wanted to get the coveted and grumpy, “These kids today with their drugs and their rock and roll” quote. You could always call him up and get him to say what was wrong with America today or baseball today or race relations today or politics today — Feller happily spoke out for the Greatest Generation, even if the Greatest Generation wasn’t always happy to have him as spokesman. Along the way, he would not forget to point out that the Bob Feller Museum was up and running Van Meter, Iowa, just 17 miles from Des Moines.

I did not put any of his Middle East advice in the newspaper or use any number of his somewhat inflammatory quotes because I never thought those were the point with Feller. He’s a hard right-winger, that hardly makes him unique in sports. He was shaped by his times, and that hardly makes him unique in manking. Also I have a great deal of affection for the man. He’s been scarred by life, and he feels overlooked, and he has much kindness in him, and he was one helluva pitcher. He volunteered for combat duty during the war, when he could have stayed back and played baseball and lived off his name. “I’m no hero,” he told John Sickels for his excellent book “Bob Feller: Ace of the Greatest Generation. ”Get this straight. The heroes didn’t come back. Only the survivors did.“

The most complete description I ever heard about Feller’s personality came from Buck O’Neil, who actually barnstormed with Feller and Satchel Paige back in ‘46. I asked Buck what he thought of Feller, and he smiled that knowing smile and in his special Buck O’Neil way said, ”Bob’s something else.“ That about covers it. Buck thought that Feller’s feelings about race were as discordant as the man himself. Feller was one of the biggest baseball stars to barnstorm with black players — some say that Feller’s barnstorming brought legitimacy to Negro Leagues baseball and was one big step toward desegregation in baseball.

On the other hand, when Feller was asked by a reporter shortly after the barnstorming tour if he had seen any African-American players good enough to play in the big leagues, he said: ”Haven’t seen one — not one. Maybe Paige, when he was young. When you name him, you’re done. Some are good hitters. Some can field pretty good. Most of them are fast. But I have seen none who combine the qualities of a big league ballplayer.“

There are a couple of unusual things in the statement. You can begin with the pretty obvious bias against the well-rounded skills of black players — Feller had personally barnstormed with Monte Irvin and Roy Campanella, just to name two, who would not only star in the big leagues but would star BECAUSE of their completeness, hitting, hitting with power, defense, speed, whatever you needed. Of course, that was a bias of the time — that black players, talented though they may be, lacked so