John Clayton isn’t really the problem the way Joe Morgan was, and besides, why be so derivative? So yeah, a blog name change is in order. I challenge you, my sweet, sweet readers, to come up with something. Bonus points if you can come up with something that has the initials FJC.
Fine Jogging Club? Feed John Clayton? Fund Jewish Charities? Fuck Juice Cat?
Okay, maybe we should go with something totally different.
Dan McGrath writes for something called the Chicago News Cooperative, which apparently is enough of a thing that his work can sometimes be crossposted to the New York Times.
He begins by talking about how great Jim Edmonds was in the field, at least in his younger years. This part is true; he was the man. In truth, much of Edmonds’ career existed before the advent of the most advanced defensive metrics, but there’s simply no doubt that the guy was near the top of the game as far as outfield defense. Then, of course, it degrades into old-tyme baseball nonsense.
Somewhere there’s a number that quantifies how good Edmonds was in the outfield, a number more esoteric than fielding percentage, putouts, assists — the usual suspects.
Why yes, there is! It’s called range factor per nine innings, and it shows that Edmonds did, indeed, outperform league averages quite consistently throughout his career.
There’s just as likely a number that will suggest he wasn’t any good at all, that other metrics like his range factor or his total zone runs or his win-probability-added don’t measure up to the immortal Willie Tasby.
Why Willie Tasby? Willie Tasby wasn’t even a good fielder. In any case, let me disabuse you of this notion, made up by the old school of baseball commentators, that for every number that proves a player was good, there’s another that proves he was bad. NO. WRONG. Can we please stop spreading this completely made-up idea around?
Numbers. They are the lifeblood of baseball, but I fear we have gone too far in our attempts to quantify everything that happens on the diamond, from a pitcher’s ground-ball frequency to a hitter’s productivity when the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars.
Murray Chass, is that you?
If you don’t think that ground-ball rate is an important stat for a pitcher — so much so that you’re going to go ahead and put it on the same level of nonsense as some fucking nonsense you just made up, then maybe you should stop right now.
It started with “Moneyball,” Michael Lewis’s 2003 best seller chronicling how the financially ailing Oakland A’s came to rely on cold statistical analysis to shape their baseball decisions. I read it and liked it. Now I hate it, because the numbers revolution that it touched off has overtaken the game and threatens to squeeze the life from it.
Really? The use of advanced statistics is going to “squeeze the life from” Major League Baseball? Really? Dear god, you are fucked in the head.
This has been said a million times, but I’m going to say it again: “Moneyball” was not about relying on “cold statistical analysis.” (By the way, you see what he did there? Cold statistical analysis. Because THEY DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU, baseball player! THEY ONLY CARE ABOUT YOUR NUMBERS!) It was about identifying and taking advantage of market deficiencies in Major League Baseball to build a competitive team on a budget that is, shall we say, not Yankee-sized. Those market deficiencies have shifted as statistical analysis has become more popular in baseball. This is not a difficult concept to comprehend, nor does it or will it suck the life from the game of baseball, you fucking twat.
The other day, an occasionally reasonable radio host shouted down caller after caller, insisting that there was no such thing as a “clutch” hitter, that statistical probability could determine the best man for the job with two on and two outs in the late innings of a tight game.
Do you build your own straw men or do they sell them pre-made at the store?
If by “statistical probability,” you mean that he’s saying the best man for the job is the best hitter on the team, then yeah. Statistical probability is probably the way to go.
“That guy never had to face George Brett,” said Steve Stone, the White Sox’s television analyst and an 11-year major league pitcher. “I’m probably prejudiced, because George hit about .470 off me, but there were times when you just didn’t want to face him if you couldn’t pitch around him.
Yes, and those times were when there were men on base because George Brett was an absolutely spectacular hitter. Why would you want to face an elite hitter like George Brett with men on base? How is this supposed to be an enlightening comment?
Thurman Munson was the same way. Reggie Jackson may have been the straw that stirred the drink, but every pitcher I knew would rather go through a lineup full of Reggies than face Thurman Munson with the game on the line.”
Then every pitcher you knew was wrong.
Yeah, blanket statements! I can make them too, motherfucker!
Stone, one of the most astute analysts in baseball, looks at numbers as part of his preparation, but he’s more reliant on what he sees and what he has learned over 38 years in the game. He had no problem with Derek Jeter’s winning his fifth Gold Glove in 2010, even if it was symbolic, a lifetime achievement award for Jeter, the 36-year-old Yankee shortstop.
Okay, as long as you understand that that makes the Gold Glove a meaningless award.
“I don’t need numbers to tell me Derek Jeter’s range has declined. I can see that,” Stone said.
Yes. We all can.
“I also see him positioning hitters so well that he only has to take three steps to get to a ball, whereas a shortstop with better range, so to speak, might need six steps.
I know I covered this already before, but let’s just quickly recap: THIS DOES NOT MATTER.
Positioning is well and good, and all fielders position themselves with a purpose. Derek Jeter, as a veteran, may have a better feel for pitchers’ and hitters’ tendencies, but that doesn’t make him a good fielder.
Let’s say, just for argument’s sake, that a “normal” shortstop position puts you six steps from being behind the second base bag and six steps from being deep in the hole at short. If you’re positioning yourself to get to that ball in the hole in three steps, then you’re gonna be nine steps away from the ball hit up the middle.
Now that’s science.
Unfortunately, Derek Jeter is not fucking Nostradamus; he doesn’t know where the ball is going to be hit, he just knows tendencies, like everyfuckingone else does. If his positioning let him get to so many balls, defensive metrics would absolutely, 100% reflect that. Do you know why they don’t? Because Jeter’s Magical Veteran Positioning Ability is much, much, much, much, much, much, much less relevant than actually being able to move your fucking legs and get to a ball that’s far away from you.
And I know Derek is going to pick up the hard two-out grounder in the eighth inning.
Unless it’s hit more than three steps away from him (or, if it’s hit to his left, more than one step).
You want the ball hit to him. He wants the ball hit to him. Not everybody is like that.”
That’s because many players not named Derek Jeter can catch the ball even when it’s not hit directly to them.
Sox fans are hoping the free-agent slugger Adam Dunn is like that; their centerpiece off-season acquisition is expected to add some left-handed thunder to a potent lineup.
Huh? Sox fans hope that Adam Dunn also wants the ball to be hit to him even though he’s not very good at catching it? Actually, I’d guess that the probably understands his limitations — in short, that he’s not a very good fielder. I’m sure Adam Dunn would be quite happy DHing every single game this year.
“The projections will say we can expect 35 to 40 homers, 110 to 120 R.B.I.’s and about a .390 on-base percentage,” Stone said. “Those are impressive numbers that have made Adam Dunn a very wealthy man. But I defy Bill James or any computer expert anywhere to tell me how Adam Dunn is going to do in the heat of a pennant race. I don’t know, the Sox don’t know, and Adam Dunn doesn’t know, because he’s never been through one. How do you measure that?”
You don’t measure that. You can, however, reasonably assume that Adam Dunn will pretty much give you the same exact production “in the heat of a pennant race” as he does “in the heat of an April game.”
Gary Hughes, a special assistant to the Cubs’ general manager, Jim Hendry, has been scouting baseball talent for 43 years. A prospect’s “makeup” — his emotional and psychological stability, along with his self-confidence — is as much a part of the assessment process as his physical tools, and it’s an intangible.
“We’re in the information business, and numbers can be helpful in terms of learning about a guy, providing there’s some context to them,” Hughes said. “But there’s no way to measure what’s inside a guy’s heart, and if you’re going to last in this business, you’d better be able to tell.”
Yes. Makeup does exist. And it does matter. No one is saying it doesn’t.
Generally speaking, guys who are massive pussies don’t make it. You know what? It’s quite apparent early on in their careers that they won’t make it. Do you know why it’s apparent? Because they don’t put up good numbers. With a few notable exceptions (which are almost always pitchers like Erik Bedard or Oliver Perez), guys with bad makeup don’t generally make the major leagues — and if they do, eventually it shows in their numbers. Since we’re talking about major league baseball players, we can pretty much throw that away.
Or invent a number that does.
This really is Murray Chass, isn’t it.
Is it too late for me to change the name of this blog to Fire Hank Steinbrenner? No? Well, I’m not going to, but it was a nice thought.
What a fucking asshole. Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly hate the Yankees more than I already do, here’s Hanky-poo to the rescue.
Steinbrenner also said baseball’s revenue sharing and luxury tax programs need changes, and that Commissioner Bud Selig is open to the idea.
Steinbrenner said he doesn’t know what the final figure is, but expects the Yankees’ 2010 payments for the two to total about $130 million.
That’s right, because if we can identify just one single problem with American sports, it’s that the Yankees don’t make enough money.
“At some point, if you don’t want to worry about teams in minor markets, don’t put teams in minor markets, or don’t leave teams in minor markets if they’re truly minor,” Steinbrenner said. “Socialism, communism, whatever you want to call it, is never the answer.”
Holy fucking shit, does reality need to punch you in the face. You. Hank Steinbrenner. What the fuck did you ever do to own the Yankees? You’ve been George Steinbrenner’s son for a living for your whole life. Then he finally fucked off after like 150 years of raping the game of baseball and left the team to you and your brother.
Which means, of course, that it’s time for you to start bitching that the fucking $1.6 billion world-famous mega-brand baseball team in New York City that you inherited without doing a single fucking thing to earn it has to redistribute some of its earnings to other teams that don’t print money, you self-righteous piece of shit. Handouts are okay when they’re daddy handing down his baseball team to you, but not okay when you share some of the fucking wealth with other teams — you know, the ones you have to fucking play to make the fucking money, you enormous pile of pinstriped shit.
You literally spent your entire adulthood before owning the Yankees breeding your dad’s fucking horses, and you’re going to even bring up the words “socialism” and “communism” here? Really? That takes a lot of nerve, but then again, I guess there’s room to spare in your fat ass.
By the way, socialism and communism are not the same fucking thing, you fucking Godfather wannabe, and Major League Baseball is a fucking corporation, not a country, so that shit is not even relevant. If you want the Yankees to make more profit and if you want revenue sharing to be less necessary, try not handing out $200 million contracts left and right so that smaller-market teams can actually compete. Are you really, seriously saying that only teams that can afford $200 million contracts should exist in Major League Baseball? You are by far the dumbest motherfucker I can think of among sports owners except for Dan Gilbert. And when your name so much as appears in the same sentence with Dan Gilbert, you know you’re in a dark place in life.
For serious. It’s a pain in the dick for me to plow through the archives of all these idiots looking for particularly idiotic things to call them idiots about. If you happen to read something so horrendously bad and wrong about sports that someone should write something about it, send it to firstname.lastname@example.org. I’d prefer to stick to things that are coming from “real” “journalistic” sources, but I may also accept stupid things posted at blogs that are really popular.
Thanks for reading. If you like this site, tell your friends.
Because Murray Chass hates blogs and is not a blogger, no, not now, not ever, even though he has a blog. And even though, like many bloggers, he feels that he should always blog his bad and wrong thoughts all over his blog. Blog blog blog.
The article is called “ONE WIN = $2 MILLION,” and it’s all in caps just like every other blog post title on Murray Chass’ blog because putting the title in all caps means it’s REAL JOURNALISM.
The standard started dropping in 2009 when Zack Greinke won the American League Cy Young award with 16 wins and Tim Lincecum won the National League award with 15 wins. It fell even lower last year when Felix Hernandez won the A.L. award with 13 victories.
Looks like someone didn’t read what I wrote about Andy Pettitte.
Now the standard has hit rock bottom. Ross Ohlendorf has won his salary arbitration case despite having won only one game last season.
I’m confused. First you were talking about the standard for the Cy Young Award (wins and nothing else, apparently) and now you’re talking about the standard for baseball arbitration cases (wins and nothing else, apparently). Should we even bother to keep other pitching stats, or just wins and fuck-offs? I say “fuck-offs” because the word “losses” just doesn’t carry enough emotional weight. We need to really make sure that pitchers with no run support and bad bullpens know that they’re totally worthless pieces of shit for not winning.
One victory equals $2,025,000, the three-member panel of arbitrators ruled last week. The $1.4 million salary Pittsburgh submitted wasn’t enough of a raise from the $439,000 salary Ohlendorf earned last year.
I’m pretty sure that’s not what they ruled. I would challenge you to go to the arbitration ruling and find where it says that one win equals $2,025,000.
Nonetheless, it is still a pretty sad moment for a Pirates organization that just can’t seem to collect too many sad moments.
But times have changed for pitchers. They don’t have to win games any more. Just throw some good-looking statistics out there other than wins, and they can win Cy Young awards and salary arbitration cases. My goodness, even arbitrators have gone over to the dark side.
My goodness, can you believe that people who are employed to determine the financial value of Major League Baseball players use more than one statistic to do it? It’s almost like they’re taking the decision seriously! You better call Han Solo up, ’cause these motherfuckers are building some kind of enormous baseball Death Star!
They basically emphasized statistics other than wins and losses, especially the run support the Pirates provided Ohlendorf. In the new age of judging pitchers run support has become a telling factor. That’s why Hernandez won his Cy Young award.
It’s good that you understand that, Murray.
Under this new-age thinking, if a team doesn’t score more than three runs a game, a pitcher isn’t expected to win. No longer is a pitcher expected to win 3-2 or 2-1. If his team doesn’t score at least four runs, it’s not the pitcher’s fault if he doesn’t win.
Never mind, apparently you don’t understand it at all.
It’s well and good if you win 3-2 and 2-1; everyone endorses winning even when your team doesn’t score a lot of runs. But the fact of the matter is that you can be a good pitcher — or, in Ross Ohlendorf’s case, a sort-of-not-terrible pitcher — and still not win a lot of games because you have a bad bullpen or your team doesn’t score a lot of runs. It’s a lot easier to win games when your team scores runs because as a pitcher, you can’t be perfect all the time. It also helps you win when your team has a bullpen that doesn’t blow games for you and a defense that catches the ball behind you. Are you really arguing against this?
There was once a time when pitchers were expected to win unless their team scored no runs, and then they were expected to tie.
What fucking time was this? This is a made-up time. This time never happened.
There was once a time when pitchers were expected to win unless their team scored no runs, and then they were expected to tie. But those days disappeared with the advent of the quality start, the questionable creation of a Detroit writer, John Lowe, a nice guy but a little off in his thinking.
If a pitcher pitches six innings and gives up three or fewer earned runs he is credited with a quality start. Never mind that three earned runs in six innings computes to a 4.50 earned run average; that’s a quality start.
At least you know that ERA exists. That’s good.
If they had been dealing with at least occasional paycuts, arbitrators this year might have looked at Ohlendorf’s 1-11 record and said don’t give me that nonsense about poor run support and other impressive statistics. Pitchers are paid to win games, and he didn’t win games. He won one game.
No, pitchers are paid to pitch. Teams win games. You’re aware of this, right? Baseball? Team sport? You’ve heard about this, yes?
Roy Halladay led all MLB in complete games last year with nine out of his 33 starts. That’s barely more than a quarter of his starts. Pitchers don’t pitch complete games anymore. That means that even the best starting pitchers control less than half of the outcome of any given baseball game. The rest is up to the offense and bullpen. Wins are not a good pitching stat because wins are not a pitching stat. How fucking complicated is that for you to understand, Chass? Get with the program.
I swear, I never intended to write about basketball here, and I probably will do so very rarely. Still, from Bill Plaschke’s argument for Carmelo to the Lakers Lakers comes the following piece of wisdom regarding Andrew Bynum:
How are you going to build a franchise around a player who has spent six years here without one defining moment?
So many things going on in this one sentence alone. What exactly qualifies as a defining moment? Plaschke seems to have worked it out for himself, but he’s not sharing. How many defining moments do you need to have to be considered a good basketball player? Can we measure them on a per-48-minutes basis? Who’s this year’s NBA leader in defining moments as defined by Bill Plaschke (henceforth, to be referred to as DMADBBP, for the sake of being concise)? How many championship teams do you need to play on before winning a championship counts as a defining moment? How many points does a DMADBBP count for?
The Lakers are near the top of the league in rebounding but are only 15th in the league in field goal percentage in the fourth quarter of games they trail.
What the fuck kind of stat is that? The Lakers have only lost 17 games all year; is their field-goal percentage in the fourth quarter of games they trail on days when the Dow Jones Industrial Average is down 10 or more points and Jack Nicholson’s hemorrhoids are acting up really a meaningful or relevant statistic? Who the fuck keeps these stats and who the fuck thinks they’re relevant? Does this stat count their field goal percentage after they catch up? If they tie the game, does it not count the next shot, but if they fall behind after that, it starts counting again?
This makes my brain feel melty.