FJM has gone dark for the foreseeable future. Sorry folks. We may post once in a while, but it's pretty much over.
You can still e-mail dak,Ken Tremendous,Junior,Matthew Murbles, or Coach.
Ned Colletti Should Be Time Magazine's Person Of The Millennium
I know it's early, but I don't think it's too early to make that call. After all, the Dodgers have a winning percentage of .517. Think about it. 51.7% of the time, the boys in blue have vanquished their opponents and bathed in their blood. If you ask Bruce Jenkins, for this Colletti deserves nothing less than the Executive of the Year Award. If you ask me, we should stop kidding ourselves and just give Colletti the MVP, the Cy Young, the Rolaids Relief Man of the Year Award and the Latin Grammy for Record of the Year.
General manager Ned Colletti, belittled all season for the signings of Jones, Pierre, Jason Schmidt, Rafael Furcal (who may yet return to play shortstop), Hideki [sic] Kuroda and Nomar Garciaparra, is now a candidate for Executive of the Year after picking up Ramirez, Casey Blake and Greg Maddux for a pittance.
1. Hiroki Kuroda is a pitcher for the Dodgers. Hideki Kuroda is the associate producer of Eko eko azaraku: B-page and Eko eko azaraku: R-page as well as the one of the directors of Inu no eiga (All About My Dog), the delightful 2005 comedy feature. (According to IMDb user chrischew2: "It loosely follows Kentaro Yamada (Shidou Nakamura), a timid media planner whose latest campaign for dog food is so stifling—not to mention utterly side-splitting—that it brings back memories of his childhood Shiba dog, Pochi. And weaved between this heart-warming tale are bursts of zaniness, from a spontaneous musical or a mockumetary to a dog's-eye-view of infatuation.")
Totally understand the mix-up, though. They get it a lot.
2. Here is a list of teams with winning percentages greater than that of the Los Angeles Dodgers baseball organization:
Tampa Bay Rays Boston Red Sox Toronto Blue Jays New York Yankees Chicago White Sox Minnesota Twins Los Angeles Angels New York Mets Philadelphia Phillies Chicago Cubs Milwaukee Brewers Houston Astros St. Louis Cardinals
Yes, the Los Angeles Collettis are tied for the 14th-best record in baseball. The Florida Marlins also sit at 77-72, but keep in mind that Marlins GM Michael Hill had the luxury of a $22,650,000 payroll, whereas Ned had to make to with just $118,188,536. Juggling the egos of guys who make more than the entire Marlins pitching staff isn't easy!
The great thing about the Dodgers is that their biggest problem - the oppressive weight of clubhouse discord - seemed to disappear overnight.
In Bruce Jenkins' world, there exists one Universal Baseball Law:
The significance of the oppressive weight of clubhouse discord >> The significance of hitting
Jenkins' sentence is actually spot-on, if you'll allow me to adjust the wording slightly.
The great thing about the Dodgers is that their biggest problem - their complete inability to hit for power - seemed to disappear overnight when they got a guy who could hit for power.
There. It's the best sentence Jenkins and I have ever co-written!
Of course Colletti gambled on Manny -- you're getting fired if you do nothing, so you might as well pay the price in talent (no one the greater Los Angeles area seemed to place any value on the next six or whatever years of Andy LaRoche) to acquire a rent-a-player in a desperate Hail Mary attempt to save your job. And hey. Look. It worked. That was easy.
Jeff Kent, forever disapproving of the club's petulant youth, was lost to a knee injury (it has to be more than coincidental that the Dodgers won 10 of their first 11 games in his absence).
It has to be more than coincidence -- we thus have conclusive evidence that Jeff Kent was poisoning his teammates just like that mom in the Sixth Sense did to the little kid version of Mischa Barton.
Jeff Kent -- tragic sufferer of Munchausen syndrome by proxy.
Torre put financial issues aside, benched Juan Pierre and Andruw Jones, and stabilized the outfield - for now and years to come - with Ethier and Matt Kemp.
Somehow, the fact of the existence of Juan Pierre and Andruw Jones on the payroll and the fact that it required one hundred-some-odd games and the addition of a Hall of Fame outfielder to compel Torre to bench Messrs. Pierre and Jones are now points in Colletti's and Torre's favor? This is the equivalent of two gardeners driving to your house, digging a twenty-foot hole in your front yard with a backhoe, buying two bags of sand, pouring the bags into the hole, and then getting lavished with praise for the sand part of the whole operation.
Arizona's problem isn't so much the standings. That deficit could disappear in a week.
Well, actually, the standings are a huge problem for Arizona. They're 4.5 back with 14 to play. That's an enormous deficit. Of course it could "disappear in a week," but that's incredibly unlikely. BP has them at 2.05397% to win the division. That sounds like a problem to me.
It's the club's desultory reaction to a crisis. Virtually all of the fire and inspiration from last year's team - Eric Byrnes, Jose Valverde, Orlando Hudson, Carlos Quentin when healthy - has vanished.
You heard it here first: the reason Brandon Webb and Dan Haren pitched four shockingly, horrifyingly grotesque abominations of games against the Dodgers was the absence of Eric Byrnes and Eric Byrnes' Motivational Hair™.
Eric Byrnes' Motivational Hair™, winning division races since 2007.
In Ramirez's first 40 games, the Dodgers had a run differential of plus-22 and averaged 4.55 runs per game, as opposed to 4.43 through July 31....It's hard to talk about the MVP Award for Manny when the team that paid the Dodgers to take Ramirez is 27-13 without him through Sunday and have seen their runs per game increase from 4.94 at the time of the deal to 6.22 since.
I like opening grafs that read like Star Wars scrolls.
It is a time of cowardice and fear, oblivious to the lessons of history. If there's a bond among starting pitchers of the pitch-count era, it's that they were born too late.
Yes. I'm sure Barry Zito wishes he were born in 1884, and instead of making $126m over the next six+ years, he had made $40 per 350 innings and lived in a crappy one-bedroom near the park and aspired to drive a Model T and read with great interest news of the first plane flight and carried a watch fob and used a glove that was only slightly bigger than his hand that he had to leave on the mound for the guy on the other team to use and died of typhoid at the age of 28. Ah...the good old days, for baseball players.
One of life's great truisms is to finish what you start.
All kinds of [sic]s here, but I can't grammar-police this article. There's too much other work to do.
It's what you tell your kids, your surgeon, your contractor.
Who tells his surgeon this? And in what context? Like, through the anaesthesia somehow, you say this to your gall bladder surgeon, who has decided to half-ass it?
This once applied to baseball, with precision, but now there's a new law: Just quit. Let somebody else finish the job. You did your part, now go be a cheerleader.
Pause briefly to say: BP has done a lot of work on pitch counts, as evidenced in their PAP (Pitcher Abuse Points) index. You can find that here. Other, more qualified people than I have researched the effects of pitch counts on the human physique, and I won't pretend to know nearly as much as they do. But it stands to reason, in this day and age, that 7-, 8-, or 9-figure investments should be protected slightly more than their more expendable counterparts in years past.
It also stands to reason that pitchers probably have to work a little harder these days to be successful, what with all of the modern strength training, nutrition, drug abuse, tape-watching, analysis, and preparation that hitters have at their disposal. Albert Pujols (and others) routinely go into the clubhouse immediately after at bats to review the tape on how the pitcher got him out. If you could go back in time and take Nap Lajoie into a room after Rube Waddell K'd him on three pitches and show him a glowing box with a video replay of the at bat, he would call you a demon, slit your throat, tear out his eyes, and generally freak the fuck out. It's a different game, these days.
That's my lob to Jenkins. Here's his return:
Pitch counts have destroyed not only the elements of pride and accomplishment among starting pitchers, but the art of winning. If one thing characterized the great pitchers of the past, from Bob Feller to Warren Spahn to Tom Seaver, it's that they learned how to win. You don't get that from a "quality start" and a nice, early shower. It's when you understand the difference between a breezy sixth inning and a stressful ninth, when you brought that victory home, and can't wait to do it again.
I would say, based purely on anecdotal evidence, that there are many pitchers who would like to close out more games than they are allowed. I would also say, based on anecdotal and statistical evidence, that the average pitcher in this league can convert most save opportunities that might come his way, and the average good closer can convert like 90-95% of them, so there just really isn't a good reason to throw Brandon Webb back out there for the ninth inning of a 5-2 game after he's thrown 125 pitches. Or whatever.
Tim Lincecum would love to close the deal.
Tim Lincecum is fourteen years old and weighs 88 pounds. I don't care if his delivery was designed by NASA torque specialists. He can just relax and let someone else pitch.
So would Matt Cain, Dan Haren, Scott Kazmir and Carlos Zambrano. They're all prisoners of the pitch-count era, trapped inside a philosophy that characterizes every organization.
Haren, Cain, and Z have been relatively injury free so far. But here's the 24 year-old Kazmir over a less-than-2-year-span:
March 25, 2008
Placed on 15-day DL (Left elbow strain)
August 26, 2006
Placed on 15-day DL (Left shoulder soreness)
July 30, 2006
Placed on 15-day DL (Left rotator cuff inflammation)
That's at least two and maybe 3 different arm injuries. You want that guy pushing it?
Complete eradication
In 1904, a 30-year-old Yankees pitcher named Jack Chesbro led the American League with 48 complete games.
Yes. I'm sure he was still firing 94 with wicked movement late in those games. I'm sure for most of the 450+ innings he threw that year, he was fresh as a daisy. Things that happened in 1904 are incredibly relevant today. I mean, 1904 was virtually yesterday, in baseball terms. I mean, that's only 10 years before this rule:
In the case of fire, panic, or storm, the umpire does not have to wait until the pitcher has the ball on the mound to call a time-out. [9.04]
was adopted. It's only a few scant years before women gained suffrage. There's basically no difference in baseball -- or any sport -- between 1904 and now. To prove that, here are some things that happened in the 1904 Olympics, held in St. Louis:
European tension caused by the Russo-Japanese War and the difficulty of getting to St. Louis kept many of the world's top athletes away.
One of the most remarkable athletes was the American gymnast George Eyser, who won six medals even though his left leg was made of wood.
The marathon was the most bizarre event of the Games. It was run in brutally hot weather, over dusty roads, with horses and automobiles clearing the way and creating dust clouds.
1. The first to arrive was Frederick Lorz, who actually was just trotting back to the finish line to retrieve his clothes, after dropping out after nine miles. When the officials thought he had won the race, Lorz played along with his practical joke until he was found out shortly after the medal ceremony and was banned for a year by the AAU for this stunt, later winning the 1905 Boston Marathon.
2. Thomas Hicks (a Briton running for the United States) was the first to cross the finish-line legally, after having received several doses of strychnine sulfate mixed with brandy from his trainers. He was supported by his trainers when he crossed the finish, but is still considered the winner. Hicks had to be carried off the track, and possibly would have died in the stadium, had he not been treated by several doctors.
3. A Cuban postman named Felix Carbajal joined the marathon. He had to run in street clothes that he cut around the legs to make them look like shorts. He stopped off in an orchard en route to have a snack on some apples, which turned out to be rotten. The rotten apples caused him to have to lie down and take a nap. Despite falling ill to apples he finished in fourth place.
4. The marathon included the first two black Africans to compete in the Olympics; two Tswana tribesmen named Len Tau (real name: Len Taunyane) and Yamasani (real name: Jan Mashiani). But they weren't there to compete in the Olympics, they were actually the sideshow. They had been brought over by the exposition as part of the Boer War exhibit (both were really students from Orange Free State in South Africa, but this fact was not made known to the public). Len Tau finished ninth and Yamasani came in twelfth. This was a disappointment, as many observers were sure Len Tau could have done better if he had not been chased nearly a mile off course by aggressive dogs.
That seems like 2008, Beijing, right? Good. Let's keep going.
Last year, Arizona's Brandon Webb topped the National League with four. The complete game has become as obsolete as five-man pepper, the two-hour game, guys swinging three bats in the on-deck circle, and coaches hitting practice pop-ups with a fungo bat.
1. NO PEPPER
2. If every game were Mark Buehrle v. Joe Blanton, you'd get bored in May.
3. It's hard to hold three bats.
4. Coaches still do this.
The sins of pitch-count madness are evident nightly, but there was no more glaring example than Lincecum's July 26 start against Arizona.
I can't believe you're not going with Johan for "the most glaring example." His bullpen has lost him like 6 games this year, and those games, unlike the Giants', actually matter.
Lincecum, a freakish phenomenon who has not had a hint of arm trouble, was demonstrating why some sharp observers consider him the best pitcher in the National League. He had 13 strikeouts, no walks, radar readings of 98 mph and a 3-2 lead, striking out the side in the seventh inning and finishing it with his glorious, unhittable changeup.
Time out! That's it for Lincecum. He'd thrown 121 pitches in his last outing, and now he was at 111, and ... well, can't you see? It's right here on this piece of paper.
It's also right here in the part of my brain that creates and registers "common sense." This game is meaningless. Tim Lincecum is the future of your organization. Remove him from the game.
Manager Bruce Bochy turned to setup man Tyler Walker, and thus was bestowed an outright gift to the opposition. Walker is a fine fellow and an earnest competitor, but he has about one-tenth of Lincecum's ability.
Most pitchers do -- Lincecum is awesome. Which is why it wouldn't really make sense to stretch him past 111 pitches in a meaningless game in late July when he'd thrown 126 pitches four days earlier.
As that one-run lead became a two-run loss, the fans couldn't believe it. They came for De Niro and got SpongeBob.
In this analogy:
Robert DeNiro = Good Actor
SpongeBob = ...Bad...Actor?
KNBR's Ralph Barbieri, who had watched from the stands, spoke for a lot of fans when he angrily called the station, got on the air and said, "If I'd known that was going to happen, I wouldn't have gone to the ballpark!"
You would have missed seven good innings of Tim Lincecum pitching, which, if you're a Giants fan, is about as good as it can get right now.
It would be misguided to blame Bochy, pitching coach Dave Righetti or general manager Brian Sabean. They only reflect a cautious stance taken throughout baseball, and if they have decided to protect Lincecum's arm - the better for him to dominate when the team becomes relevant - who's to argue? They've been consistent with their rules, involving all of the starters, so it would look silly for Lincecum to suddenly have a 150-pitch game.
Correct. Why did you write this article?
More than a numbers game
The problem isn't so much the pitch count, an honest endeavor, but the dismissal of all other factors. Fatigue can't be measured by a counter that suddenly reaches "100." For a laboring pitcher, 90 pitches could be a solid two hours of hell. For someone on cruise control, 120 pitches is about as stressful as a Caribbean vacation.
True 'dat, my brother. Other things you should consider: does the game mean anything? Is the pitcher the complete and utter future of your franchise? Did the pitcher throw a lot of pitches in his last (also meaningless) game? If the answers are: no, yes, yes, then you should pull him after seven innings.
There are so many more reliable signs of trouble: if a pitcher can't throw a strike on 2-and-0, if his curveball loses snap, if he constantly lifts or shakes his arm (indicating discomfort), if he takes more than his customary time between pitches, if he starts shaking off the catcher when the two have been in sync all night, if he walks the leadoff man with a five-run lead, if he can't throw his money pitch when he had it two innings earlier, if he's fussing with needless pickoff throws, if his body language betrays frustration.
The implication here: major league managers and pitching coaches have never considered this. They have seen pitchers exhibit this trouble and thought nothing of it. They have watched the absence of these signs and thought nothing of it. They have simply never thought to consider these factors at all. Not once. And they never go up and talk to their pitchers between innings and ask them how they feel. They never have, or formulate, plans. They just wait until the eighth inning and toss a reliever in there. Managing.
In a recent outing against Houston, CC Sabathia pitched his fifth complete game in the nine starts he'd made for Milwaukee. He threw 130 pitches, raising a torrent of alarmist nonsense. Fortunately, manager Ned Yost didn't join in the geeks' pencil party. What Sabathia has done for the Brewers is a story, something exceptional. It's called rising above the rest - the very essence of sports. Yost had a great answer, too, when asked if Sabathia threw too many pitches. "Never once did he labor," he said.
It has not occurred to Mr. Jenkins, apparently, that CC is 99% likely to leave the team after this season. Which means: the Brewers could not give less of two shits [sic] how beat up he gets. They are driving for the playoffs. If CC blows his arm out in June of next year, that's Hank Steinbrenner's problem.
In other words: Open your eyes, everybody. Follow your instincts. By all means, protect an often-injured pitcher such as Rich Harden, a star (think Pedro Martinez) near the end of his career, or a prospect who hasn't worked a 100-inning season in his life. But when you have a young, healthy starter and you're making distinctions between 110 and 120 pitches, you've driven way off the road.
Tim Lincecum had thrown a grand total of 62.2 innings in professional baseball before throwing 146 with the Giants last year (after 31 of those minor league innings). He is on pace to throw 216 this year.
...nobody wants to be blamed: by the media, talk-show hosts, agents, the players' association or executives protecting their financial investments. When I spoke with Bochy in the aftermath of that Lincecum game, he actually mentioned Kerry Wood and Mark Prior, who gallantly took the Cubs to the brink of the World Series in 2003, then broke down with sore arms later, prompting some after-the-fact hysteria targeting then-manager Dusty Baker.
Don't be so quick to blame then-Giants manager Felipe Alou of ruining an arm when Jason Schmidt crafted a one-hit, 144-pitch shutout at Wrigley Field ("I'd do it all over again," Schmidt recently said. "There's nothing like knowing the game is in your control.")
July 16, 2008
Recalled from minors rehab
June 28, 2008
Sent to minors for rehabilitation
June 01, 2008
Recalled from minors rehab
May 20, 2008
Transferred to 60-day DL
May 11, 2008
Sent to minors for rehabilitation
March 30, 2008
Placed on 15-day DL (Recovery from right shoulder surgery)
November 01, 2007
Removed from 60-day DL
August 13, 2007
Transferred to 60-day DL
June 18, 2007
Placed on 15-day DL (Right shoulder surgery - out for season)
June 05, 2007
Removed from 15-day DL
May 30, 2007
Sent to minors for rehabilitation
April 17, 2007
Placed on 15-day DL (Right bursa sac inflammation)
May 24, 2005
Removed from 15-day DL
May 10, 2005
Placed on 15-day DL (Strained right shoulder)
April 16, 2004
Recalled from minors rehab
April 16, 2004
Removed from 15-day DL
April 10, 2004
Sent to minors for rehabilitation
April 03, 2004
Placed on 15-day DL (Right shoulder stiffness)
April 24, 2002
Recalled from minors rehab
April 13, 2002
Sent to minors for rehabilitation
May 11, 2001
Recalled from minors rehab
April 30, 2001
Sent to minors for rehabilitation
April 20, 2001
Recalled from minors rehab
April 13, 2001
Sent to minors for rehabilitation
September 01, 2000
Transferred to 60-day DL
August 23, 2000
Recalled from minors rehab
July 29, 2000
Sent to minors for rehabilitation
August 30, 1996
Recalled from minors rehab
August 11, 1996
Sent to minors for rehabilitation
Not that many games have been under his control, really. What with all the injuries.
Don't single out Yost as some type of renegade because he believes in Sabathia's durability. And don't join the lunatics blaming Baker for the downfall of Prior and Wood.
We've covered the situation in Milwaukee. And we're not lunatics. We're people who watched Dusty Baker have Kerry Wood throw 141 pitches after an injury-riddled early career and asked: "WTF?" (Also, how is Kerry Wood different from Rich Harden? Remember back when you suggested protecting Rich Harden?)
Baker's Cubs went for it that year. They had a postseason in their reach, they had the right pitchers for the job, and those men wanted the ball - all night, if that's what it meant. People can sit around adjusting their spectacles and analyzing, but they have no idea how it feels to actually compete.
I'll have you know that I once pitched six grueling innings with a sore toe in a little league game against Rent-a-Wreck in 1988. I gave up four runs but also drove in three with a 3-R bomb to left off Dave Forgione. We won 19-4. Then my mom took me for ice cream. So, yeah, I think I know how to compete.
"Nothing that happened to me was because of that man (Baker)," Wood recently told Chicago reporters.
This reminds me of something...oh. Right.
"I did not have sexual relations with that woman (Miss Lewinsky)."
I bet you fuckers never thought you'd get a Monica Lewinsky joke on this blog, did you?! You never saw that coming! I got you! I got you all!
Sincerely,
Jay Leno
P.S. Viagra!
"You have guys who go through their whole careers and don't get injured. Other guys pitch two years and get injured six times. I don't think it has anything to do with a manager or a pitching coach or anything like that. It's either going to happen or it's not."
This is an oddly fatalistic attitude to apply to a game that requires extreme stress on a player's muscles, ligaments, and tendons. I don't think winning the dead lift competition has to do with how strong your legs are. It's either going to happen or it's not.
If more people realized that, and trusted their eyes, we wouldn't have pitch counts at all.
This condescending sentence seems like a good place to end.
What? There's like 10000 more words?
A game of honor
The complete game is a badge of honor among starting pitchers, and historians will view the early 21st century as a veritable wasteland. Only Toronto's Roy Halladay and Milwaukee's CC Sabathia (eight each this season) bear any resemblance to the iron-man performers of the past. A few notes on the subject:
Fernando Valenzuela, with the 1986 Dodgers, was the last pitcher to have at least 20 complete games in a season. This century, no pitcher in either league has reached 10.
Then Fernando Valenzuela went on to pitch 10 more years of awesome baseball and got elected to the Hall of Fame with 350 wins.
Oh no wait -- that's not what happened. What happened was, he threw like 1550 innings before the age of 25, had that last good year in 1986, then the next year his WHIP shot up to 1.5 and he never had a good season again due to -- in no small part -- a lot of injuries.
The Giants' Juan Marichal had 30 in 1968, a season dominated by pitching statistics, but how about Ted Lyons with the 1930 White Sox? That was a hitters' year of almost comical proportions. The Yankees hit a collective .309, the National League hit .303, and eight batters hit .370 or better, yet Lyons had 29 complete games, and the co-leaders in the National League had 22.
Yeah, how about Ted Lyons and those 1930 numbers? Crazy. 297 IP. But more to the point, how about Ted Lyons and that 1931 arm injury that made it impossible for him to throw his cut fastball anymore? And how about the fact that he never pitched anywhere close to that number of innings again? And how about the fact that he's in the HOF even though his 1.348 career WHIP is only slightly worse than Bronson Arroyo's? It was a different game, man.
Also, do you do any research? I have no idea if Ted Lyon's arm injury was due to the 297 innings he had thrown the year before. For all I know he injured his arm waving a sign of support for Herbert Hoover, who was President in 1930, because that's how fucking long ago 1930 is. But why use Fernando and Lyons, two guys who got badly arm-injured the very next year you cite for each of them, to try to prove your point? That's crazy.
[...] As recently as the 1998 season, there were 212 instances of a starter throwing at least 125 pitches. Last season, it happened 14 times.
Baseball is lost.
I don't think every arm injury is caused by pitcher abuse. I do think that certain pitchers could complete more games, if they wanted to, without career-ending injuries. So why did I take three hours to break down this article? Because it's in my blood, man. It's in my blood.
"One of life's great truisms is to finish what you start. It's what you tell your kids, your surgeon, your contractor."
I'm no M.D. (though I did watch "St. Elsewhere" quite a bit), but don't surgeons often have residents (or even nurses) finish up for them? And in these instances, don't they (Dr. Craig, Dr. Ehrlich, Howie Mandel, etc.) sometimes actually use the words, "Close for me"? (Emphasis added.)
In one of Joe Posnanski's most recent blogs, he talked about the average length of starts over the last 50 years, and how it really hasn't gone down that much. Here's his table:
1956: 6.41 innings per start. 1963: 6.50 innings per start. 1968: 6.66 innings per start. 1971: 6.60 innings per start. 1977: 6.30 innings per start. 1980: 6.33 innings per start. 1985: 6.22 innings per start. 1990: 6.06 innings per start. 1995: 5.90 innings per start. 1998: 6.06 innings per start. 2001: 5.92 innings per start. 2004: 5.86 innings per start. 2008: 5.85 innings per start.
Barry Bonds is a bad man who did a lot of illegal drugs. He's also, by many accounts, a jerk. But even at the age of like 72, he was objectively pretty good at hitting baseballs. You have to admit that. Or, if you're Bruce Jenkins, I guess you don't.
If Beane wants to destroy team chemistry, the clubhouse mood and any semblance of sanity by signing Barry Bonds, hey, maybe he doesn't have that much to lose. Remember this, though: Over the past two seasons, Bonds hurt the Giants more from a baseball standpoint than any steroid-related issues. Without Bonds - even if they don't make a single deal - the Giants will improve at least five games in the standings, simply because they can call themselves a team.
How Barry Bonds "Hurt" the Giants from a Baseball Standpoint in 2006: .270/.454/.545 in 130 games. 26 HR.
How Barry Bonds "Hurt" the Giants from a Baseball Standpoint in 2007: .276/.480/.565 in 126 games. 28 HR.
Yes, watching him play LF was painful. And yes, there will probably be a palpable sense of relief among the Giants' players that he's gone. But it's not easy to find a hitter who can put up those numbers. Even if he can't run, he was on base almost half the time.
I would say (uncontroversially) that he hurt the team far more from a non-baseball standpoint, in that he was a terrible sideshow who distracted everyone around him with his steroidiness. (That's a word, I think.) And if the Giants are 5 games better in the standings next year, it will be because their excellent young pitchers are a year older and better, not because they lost a guy with a 156/170 OPS+ the last two years.
I think this is the funniest and most entertaining post I've ever made. The end.
The Great American Ballpark is a bandbox, a home-run haven, an almost impossible place to build a pitching staff.
True 'dat. According to ESPN's Park Factors Page, the GAP is the #1 easiest place to hit HR, and is #2 in runs. So far you have argued using reason and knowledge.
Look elsewhere: Philadelphia, Texas, Colorado or Boston, where the Curse of the Bambino lasted a million years.
And now you have ceased to do so.
Philly: #2 in HR, but only #10 in runs, and #18 in hits. Arlington: #10 in HR, #15 in runs, #13 in hits
Coors is 4th in hits, 2nd in runs, and 8th in HR even with the humidor. Fenway is 1st in runs and 1st in hits -- but 24th in HR. Fenway is a relatively hard park to hit HR in, and has been for a few years.
Oh, and one more thing: there is no such thing as curses. And hyperbole or no -- a million years?
Hitters can't wait to step to the plate in those places. They're crowding the on-deck circle, digging hard into the batter's box, rudely leaning into every pitch. And after three innings, the home team trails, 8-5.
Well, except for Arlington, yes, you are pretty much right. These parks do all favor hitters.
Houston (reached the 2005 World Series) and Minnesota are conspicuous exceptions, but you get the point: It's not a good thing when opponents mark the calendar for a really good time in your ballpark.
Houston is an exception? To what? Enron/Minute Maid Park strongly favors pitchers in every single statistical category -- H, R, HR, 2B, 3B, BB. It is a solid pitchers' park. In 2005 it skewed towards hitters for HR, but was a pitchers' park in every other category. How is this an exception?
Admit it. You just look at it and think it's small and don't do any research, don't you? Don't you, you saucy little minx?
The Metrodome, too -- except for walks, which is 1.001 (essentially dead average in the category) -- favors pitchers in every category. So if you really want to look for an exception to your imaginary rule, how about citing...
...
...
... the 2004 Boston Red Sox? Who won the World Series? And play in Fenway? Which? You? Cited? Earlier?
This may sound crazy,
Can't wait.
but I'm saying the Giants would have a better record right now if they hadn't re-signed Bonds. Not first-place better, but a better winning percentage, and I'll guarantee you some of the players in the clubhouse feel the same way. Why? Because it would be about a team, not a home-run record. About the hint of change, not the same one-act play. Bonds' at-bats remain magical, no doubt about that, and it might be decades before we see another hitter so compelling -- but the burden of his presence makes the rest of the players wonder if they even matter.
There might -- might, I say -- be something to this. But mostly because the guy costs a lot of money, and they might have been able to sign other, better players with that money. Bonds is going to be worth 9.6 wins to his team this year, so you'd have to get 10 wins of improvement over what you have now in order to have a better winning percentage than you have with him. That's a lot of wins. Granted, the Giants have some terrible players. Roberts-Winn-Durham is a pretty sad 123. But you can't just say that they'd be better on psychological grounds only, without offering possibilities for whom they might have signed with the extra $$$.
Then later, in the random notes section, we get...
Out-of-nowhere prediction: Jose Valverde, Arizona's flighty reliever, gives up a costly late-inning homer and turns into Atlee Hammaker, never quite the same ...
You think that's novel? Please. I've been predicting Valverde-becomes-Hammaker for months.
Here's a handy summer reminder for all the managers and pitching coaches so lamely obsessed with pitch counts ("I know he's pitching a two-hitter, but hold on just a minute here -- 103 pitches!"): In the 1968 season, the Cardinals' Bob Gibson was never removed from the mound. Made 34 starts, completed 28. The other six times, he was removed for a pinch-hitter (twice in the seventh inning, three times in the eighth and once in the 11th, notes Bill Arnold of Sports Features Group). Not once did he make that walk to the dugout, usually a humbling and discouraging experience.
I wholeheartedly encourage you to visit this page, and poke around the web and read the scientific/medical basis for pitch counts. If you don't want to, I will coarsely summarize: it is not the amount of rest between outings that matters most to a player's arm's health. It is the number of pitches per individual outing above a certain benchmark -- roughly 100. Granted, science and reason cannot hold a candle to good ol' fashioned horse sense, the like of which you are demonstrating here.
Try to imagine this as you recall Tony La Russa crafting relief for the seventh, eighth and ninth innings before the game even starts, or Felipe Alou making six changes in five minutes. It's a different game today (the pitching-dominated '68 season forced a lowering of the mound), but Gibson's feat could be repeated. Same ball, same human arm. All it takes is a little integrity and common sense.
Integrity. And common sense. That's what it takes to make a guy throw 28 complete games.
Seriously. "Integrity." And "common sense."
Integrity, to me, and to the dictionary, means something along the lines of: adherence to an ethic, or a set of moral principles. It can also mean honesty. It escapes me how any of this has anything to do with MLB pitch counts.
I suppose he could be using "integrity" in the sense of "maintenance of a whole." Like in Star Trek when a Klingon laser destroys the Enterprise's hull's integrity. That would make sense -- all it would take for someone to replicate Gibson's 300+ IP and 28 CG in 1968 would be, by definition, the maintenance of his physical integrity. But I don't think he meant that.
Let me also add here that he is actually arguing, seemingly, for a CG qua a CG -- like, it doesn't matter what the game situation is. People should just throw more complete games. Bud Black should send Peavy out there and have him toss 145 pitches no matter if he's up by 9 or down by 6. Because that would be better...for...someone?
And as for the "it could happen today" argument. Well, maybe it could. But why would you want to try? Gibson was a freak -- a once-in-a-generation pitcher with a killer arm. Saying you could have someone replicate his longevity feat today is like the child's argument that he shouldn't study because "Einstein dropped out of school in 8th grade," or "Bill Gates dropped out of college!" The antecedent in question is not the norm, thus the results of the experiment in question should not be counted on to be repeated.
But what do I know? Have Barry Zito throw 307 innings this year. Maybe that will help your Giants turn things around.
Next time you get upset when a sportswriter paints a picture of bloggers as big fat nerdy nerds who sit in front of their computers all day in their mom's basement, remember that you just referenced the Starship Enterprise's hull integrity.
If people didn't know better, they'd think we were frakkin' losers!
What's a bunch of meta-sports-commentary commentators to do?
Bill Plaschke hasn't written an article in nine days. Wallace Matthews hasn't published since June 26. Woody Paige, apparently, has been neglecting his writing in favor of his on-going propulsion experiments. The White Sox are playing down to their PECOTA predictions, so no one at the Trib or CST can glow about Ozzie. Even this guy -- normally so reliable -- has taken a break to cover Wimbledon.
It's tough days here at FJM.
I post this only to ask you, our loyal readers, to be vigilant. Go about your lives. Go to the movies, have a picnic with your children, do all of the things you normally do. But also, send us links to poorly-conceived and -executed articles in your hometown papers. Because if you don't, then the journalists will have won.
Imagine the strength of the Red Sox' rotation if they had the good sense to get rid of 87-year-old Tim Wakefield. The knuckeball act has become dreadfully tedious; even the Yankees own him. He's had some nice moments over the years, but it's time to join the cows and the sheep out on the pasture.
I was curious as to why Jenkins has it in for Wake, so I invited him to come with me to a Sox-Giants interleague game in beautiful AT&T Park. Here's my transcript of that totally real event that happened:
(Ken Tremendous and Jenkins settle into their seats in the Club Level. Ken has one of those awesome cheese-infused sausages they sell; Jenkins, fairly drunk already, holds an egg crate filled with eleven beers and one hot dog. He also has a flask filled with Old Grandad whiskey, and a wineskin overflowing with chablis.)
(For some reason -- and I did not expect this -- he speaks with a slight British accent.)
Bruce Jenkins: My my, what a lovely day. Ken Tremendous: Yes, it sure is. Careful! Oops...
(Jenkins has spilled six of the eleven beers all over his shirt. He does not seem to notice.)
BJ: Tell me, Mr. Tremendous, is this the first professional baseball game you've ever seen? KT: Um, no -- I've seen, like, hundreds of -- look out! Oh boy.
(Jenkins has taken a bite of his hot dog; the entire dog squirted out the other end of the bun, falling on his lap. There is now a copious amount of relish and ketchup leaking through his unzipped fly.)
BJ: (gnawing happily on the empty hot dog bun) You were saying? KT: Yes, um, I've been to hundreds of games. BJ: (chuckles) Really. Because you being a "web logger" and all, I just assumed that you would spend all your time-- KT: -- in my mom's basement. BJ: (simultaneously) -- in your mom's basement!! KT: Very clever. BJ: Zing! I zinged you, m'boy! KT: Yes, you did. Well played. BJ: You web-log all you want, Kenneth. Endulge yourself in imaginary statistics like "VORP," HEEP, SKANK and VLZSKS. I'll be out here in the sun, talking about a little thing I like to call "Runs Batted In." (Belches loudly.) KT: Okay. So, listen -- about this thing you wrote about Tim Wakefield... BJ: Oh my, yes. His knuckleball act has become dreadfully tedious. The Red Stockings should put him out to pasture! KT: He did get roughed up by the Yankees -- a very good hitting club -- and he's struggled recently. But the guy isn't bad. Every year, he's good for 180 innings and a 4.20ish DIPS. Isn't that good for a fourth starter?
(Jenkins stares at me blankly.)
BJ: What did you call me? KT: (confused) What? I didn't call you anything. BJ: You listen to me, you rogue! You blackguard! I didn't fight in the Boer War to be insulted by a man who probably still lives in his mom's basement! (chuckles to himself) KT: I wasn't insulting you. I was just pointing out that no matter what kind of pitch the guy throws, he's a pretty good fourth starter. I mean, the Sox only pay him $4 million a year, and his K/IP ratio is better than Mark Buehrle's. BJ: Blorrrmp.
(Jenkins has vomited a little. I help him clean off his chin)
KT: There we go. You okay? BJ: Listen, I don't care what your so-called "statistics" say. The man's act has become dreadfully tedious.
(He produces a partially-eaten grilled cheese sandwich from his waistcoat and washes down the bite with a long draw off the wineskin.)
KT: Yes, you mentioned that. But what-- BJ: I mean, where is the man's fastball?! Where is the challenge pitch? Where is the wicked googly? KT: Is that...a curveball? Because he throws a curveball occasionally. And no matter what, the guy has had a 100-or-above ERA+ in 13 out of his 15 years. That's pretty good. BJ: Will you stop spouting statistics, you mom's-basement-dweller?! Where are you even getting this information? KT: From my Blackberry. BJ: (eyes light up) A blackberry? Sounds delicious!
(He eats my Blackberry.)
KT: Oh boy. BJ: (licking fingers) Excellent. KT: I needed that. BJ: Look, Ken Tremendous -- if that is your real name! KT: It's not. BJ: This game is about traditions, my friend. It isn't called "NumbersBall." It's called "Rounders." KT: "Baseball." BJ: And Rounders just isn't Rounders without the sweet smell of the chalk, and the loud crack of rawhide in the Snufflebucket, and the crisp feeling of flerbits in the mrrrrph mrrgggle...
(Jenkins is fast asleep. I gently take the wineskin off his back and wrap him in my new Noah Lowry jersey. The first pitch is thrown, and I settle in to watch a baseball game.)
(Two hours later, Jenkins offers his final salvo...)
Re: Bruce Jenkins' gem about pitchers with ERAs over 4.00 (specifically, 4.29) being lousy.
Noticed this, from Jenkins' column a couple days ago:
"Barry Zito's brilliance was there for all to see, particularly a handful of clowns in the New York media who dismissed Zito as a flake last winter, when the Mets were in the running to sign him as a free agent (between the lines, Zito is about as flaky as an anvil)."
Barry Zito's ERA this year is 4.21, and he's "an anvil."
Tim Wakefield's is 4.24.
The fictional pitcher from Jenkins' Sept. 2005 column had a 4.29.
This is why my blood boils when people cite All Star Game Appearances as a measure of a player's abilities. Take it away, Bruce Jenkins:
One of the game's most astute writers, Jayson Stark of espn.com, marveled this week at the National League's candidates to start the All-Star game at shortstop. Narrowing it down to a statistical analysis of his top five candidates -- J.J. Hardy, Jose Reyes, Hanley Ramirez, Jimmy Rollins and Edgar Renteria -- he still found it a difficult choice. No kidding. Here's an even better way to go: Omar Vizquel. He's the greatest defensive shortstop in the history of the game. He may well wind up with 3,000 hits. The game is in San Francisco. And not one of those guys would have a problem with it. They all bow to the master.
First of all, Omar is 40 years old and has 2508 hits. If he gets 3000, I will buy Bruce Jenkins a new car -- his choice of model -- and I will personally chauffeur him to the game when Vizquel reaches the milestone. I will pay for the tickets to the game, all the hot dogs Jenkins can eat, and I will perform a striptease for him after the game. I will then hang myself in the public square of Jenkins' choosing, with "I'm an Idiot" spraypainted across my chest.
But back to the main thesis of this piece of nonsense.
Omar Vizquel has a .213 EqA. .213. His traditional stats are a sparkling .242/.283/.282. And you want him to start the All-Star Game.
I mean, I get that he's a great SS, and his career should be held in very high esteem. But come the fuck on, man.
23 year-old Jose Reyes has a .334 EqA, and is already at 8 FRAA. That translates to an 11.3 WARP3 for the year. He might be the most exciting and talented all-around player in baseball.
23 year-old Hanley Ramirez has a .344 EqA. .344!!!
24 year-old J.J. Hardy has a .319 EqA and a SLG of .601.
28 year-old Jimmy Rollins has a .296 EqA with 9 HR.
Edgar Renteria has a .316 EqA and is pounding the ball.
This is an absolute golden age of NL SS. Baseball should make it mandatory that all of these guys be on the All-Star team. They should make videos of them playing and give them away free at all MLB games. Bud Selig should learn how to play the lyre so he can write paeans to each of these men, who are baseball's best chance to get kids hooked on their product.
And Bruce Jenkins wants 71 year-old Omar Vizquel to start the All-Star Game.
I understand the desire to celebrate the careers of great players. But seriously. Bruce. That's batshit insane.
Rarely-cited, but truly beloved on this blog, Jenkins is the author of one of the all-time greatest articles in FJM history. Today he has some less egregious, but still silly, thoughts on the A's and Mark Kotsay.
Reflecting on the A's 2006 season, through all the fine moments provided by Frank Thomas, Huston Street and Milton Bradley, I always come back to Mark Kotsay, the consummate ballplayer.
In some ways, Jenkins is correct. As we point out in our glossary (click link at the top of the site), Kotsay is in many ways, at this moment in time, your prototypical "decent" baseball player. He has put up WARP3's of 5.4 and 3.0 in his last two seasons, both of which included 20-40 games missed to injury. He's a very good fielder and a decent hitter, when healthy, but next year he will be 31 and the days of WARP3's in the 6-8 range are probably over. He's like: not bad.
Struggling privately with his tortured back and some issues with manager Ken Macha, Kotsay was always good for the running catch, the double to left-center, the rally-triggering jolt of energy.
He was good for a whopping 7 HR and a line of .275/.332/.386 in 502 AB -- exactly, weirdly, the batting title qualification number. He hit into 18 DP. And as for doubles, he was "always good" for 29 of them. Eh.
With some guys, you peg them as ballplayers within a couple of warmup throws: George Brett, Buddy Bell, Derek Jeter, Torii Hunter. Kotsay is in that class.
Correct. He is in the "class" of "ballplayers," in that he has a major league contract guaranteed by the players' union's CBA. As for comparisons to Brett, Jeter, and Hunter...not so much, these days. Hunter is the same age and was worth 3.3 wins more to his team last year. And he hit 31 HR.
I'm not sure how good any of those guys' warm-up throws are, to be fair.
It's a crushing development for the A's, losing Kotsay for some three months.
I don't think so. They have a lot of good outfielders. I wouldn't call it "crushing." And weirdly -- and this is where Jenkins really kicks it into high gear, idiot-wise -- neither would Jenkins. Because even though he himself labeled the loss "crushing," and even though he presumably had access to a "delete" key, and ample time to use it, just four sentences later he writes this:
It definitely hurts the A's, but there's nothing wrong with a starting outfield of Bradley, Nick Swisher and Shannon Stewart.
So...not "crushing," then?
When Kotsay and Bobby Kielty return, their outfield will be in excellent shape again (we're assuming that Stewart is free of the foot problems that bothered him over the past two seasons). Some of the younger outfielders, like Ryan Goleski and Travis Buck, will get a longer look.
So...definitely not "crushing," in that they also have Milton Bradley (29 years old, higher WARP3 than Kotsay last year in fewer games) and Swisher (26, stud, 8+ WARP3 last year) and Stewart, who stinks a little, but not much more than Kotsay, and Kielty, who is nothing to write home about but is roughly as good as Kotsay has been recently. And while Goleski is no great shakes, if Buck hits his 50th percentile predictions, he'll be more valuable than Kotsay was last year, and he's only 23.
In any case, this is the A's way: They survive. They regenerate. They lose talent with fightening regularity, all the while retaining their highly respectable status in the American League.
That is to say...it will not in any way be "crushing" to lose Mark Kotsay for a while.
Bruce Jenkins is paid -- every week, presumably -- to write about things for the San Francisco Chronicle. Here's one example of what they get for their money. The subject is new Dodgers' GM Ned Colletti. (Thanks to reader Tony and others for the link.)
Some people in L.A. have expressed concern that Colletti was never a scout, but take our word for it: He sees the game as well as anybody.
He has excellent vision, and his position as GM means he has great seats to every game.
And that's the key: He sees it. He'll take statistics into account, but Colletti is the kind of guy whose first impression of a prospect might be, "There goes a ballplayer" -- and he'll be right.
The secret behind this amazing ability: He identifies them by their uniforms, and the fact that they are holding mitts and bats.
"To me," he says, "how a player approaches the game, how he approaches life, far outweighs what the stat line looks like." For Dodger fans weary of Paul DePodesta's computer-generated philosophies, there is palpable relief.
Really? This is what you want? A guy who actually says that the way a guy "approaches" the game is not as important as how well he plays the game? Look, DePo made some mistakes, and more importantly, he got absolutely housed by injuries. But why there is this sense of snotty "vindication," or something, by people who frown on actual analysis of players' abilities...I just don't understand it. It has the same flavor as a bunch of 19th century noblemen sipping brandy in a drawing room and laughing about the idea that women would get involved in politics, or something. "Well, of course, the very idea of this new approach is ludicrous. But we'll let them have their little fun, and then get back to the way things ought to be."
Along those lines, such mercurial talents as Juan Pierre and Carl Crawford are reportedly available in trade. The "Moneyball" guys can forget them. Way too fast and disruptive. Too much imagination. Too much of a threat to manufacture runs.
If you're going to snidely dismiss us, please cite players we would actually not want. Carl Crawford can play on my Moneyball team anyday. He's 24 years old. His OPS in the last three years has gone .671/.781/.800. His HR have gone 5-11-15. He is awesome. I might take Pierre as well, though his OPS dropped 100 points from 2004-05, and his .326 OBP last year just killed his team.
Also: "too much imagination?" What the effing eff are you talking about? That doesn't mean anything. These two guys do exactly what all baseball players do: they hit, run, and field. Does "imagination" mean "bunting?" Sometimes these two guys bunt. Or does it mean "steal bases?" Because lots of guys do this -- and these two guys do it well. The reason they are good is because they are good hitters and they are fast and play good defense. The reason Crawford is excellent -- and a potential MVP candidate someday, if you ask me -- is because he also hits for power, which Pierre does not do.
And please, please, please, stop using the phrase "manufacture runs." Please. I beg of you. It's really dumb.
The point is, don't criticize something you don't understand, Bruce Jenkins. Because, as the old saying goes, when you criticize something you don't understand, you make an ass out of you.
See Junior's post below for the real boneheadedness, but here's more:
"And on the year, he's got a solid ERA of 4.29."
Nope. There's nothing solid about an ERA over 4.00, no matter what the league or the circumstances. Just because we're passing through a period of inflated offensive numbers and lousy pitching, 4.29 is not impressive. You want solid? Try Dazzy Vance's 2.61 for Brooklyn in 1930, when the league hit .303. Try Steve Carlton's 1.97 for a 1972 Phillies team that won 59 games. Or Roger Clemens' ERA last week.
Um, okay. There's a difference between "solid," which is the word you used in the made-up quotation, and "impressive," which is the word you then use to critique your own made-up quotation-er. 4.29 is, I think "solid. It would put you 63rd in MLB out of the 90 or so pitchers who have qualified for the ERA title. Which isn't great, but it's not terrible. Here are some pitchers between 3.80 and 4.29: Danny Haren, Scott Kazmir, Brad Radke, Jason Marquis, Noah Lowry, Cliff Lee, Brad Penny, C.C. Sabathia, Bronson Arroyo, Greg Maddux, Mike Mussina, Jon Lieber, Jason Schmidt, Freddy Garcia, Livan Hernandez, and Matt Morris.
Jake Westbrook and Scott Elarton, from the vaunted Cleveland Indians staff, are both above 4.29.
The point is, 4.29 isn't great, but your fictional "dumb person" didn't say it was "great," (s)he said it was "solid." And it's pretty solid. And the more important point is, 4.29 is one or two good outings from being really quite good. Which is why ERA is a stupid stat by which to measure pitchers. (Although, admittedly, it is better when applied to starters. But it's still very raw and unreliable.) And it's also why WHIP and K/BB ratio are better, but we know how you feel about those, you dummy.
Also, no one would ever claim that Dazzy Vance's 2.61 was "solid." We would say it was "great." You changed the rules in the middle of your rant, silly!
"I've got Mike Matheny as the catcher on my all-overrated team, because he doesn't hit. Catcher defense is not really important."
Unbelievable. When I think about great teams, I think about Jason Varitek's absolute command of a game; Pudge Rodriguez defiantly holding the series-winning baseball after his collision with J.T. Snow; Thurman Munson defining a team's spirit as he summons one more throw from a bum shoulder; Mike Scioscia taking hits amounting to a Ray Lewis tackle at full speed. Whether it's shoddy pitch calling, the inability to "frame" pitches or a general lack of toughness, a poor defensive catcher exposes a team's vulnerability.
I agree with you -- I think catching defense is very important. My question is, who the hell says catching defense isn't important? Is that a commonly heard thing? I've never heard anyone say that. What I have heard, is people talking about how having a catcher who's good offensively is a HUGE bonus. And when people say that, the people they cite are often: Jason Varitek, Pudge Rodriguez, and sometimes Thurman Munson.
"Wow, check it out: Home runs are down. Must be the steroid testing."
Wait a minute: Would you even know they're down without the statistics? Does it feel like they're down? Don't ignore the elements of tiny ballparks, juiced balls, magic bats and pitchers (not just hitters) getting off the juice, but balls are flying out of the yard. Middle infielders continue to hit absurd home runs (I saw Frank Menechino put one over the center-field fence in Toronto with a one-armed swing on a low-and-outside pitch). Everyone was curious to watch the All-Star home run contest in this alleged new era, and balls left the park as if the hitters were setting up golf balls on a tee.
You have to be kidding me. First of all, yes, it does seem like HR are down, and I feel that without looking at stats. You know how you judge things like this? By looking at the extremes of the bell curve. Remember in the late 1990's and early '00's, when everybody and his brother hit 50+ HR? Remember Brady Anderson? Remember Sammy Sosa hitting 60+ three years in a row, many of them flat-footed the other way, and then steroid testing started and he's hit like 12 and looks lost at the plate? Isn't it interesting that Giambi fell apart and took a full year to come back and now everyone is saying he's back on HGH? Don't you find it interesting that Andruw Jones is the only guy in MLB with 50+ this year, when 18 of the 36 50+ seasons in BASEBALL HISTORY happened between 1996 and 2004? And six of the eight 60+ seasons happened in the same time period? Even without looking that stuff up, if you're an observer of baseball, even a casual one, you must have noted that at the extreme end of the spectrum, things are very very different, which in turn suggests that HR are, overall, down, which they indeed are.
And, as far as your last sentence goes, if you think that the results of a HR Derby say anything -- ANYTHING -- about steroids or HR or anything involving actual baseball, you are a complete moron.
When you check the actual numbers (this is from mid-August), the homers-per-game average is down to 2.08 from last year's 2.25. Is this some kind of joke? Scan this statistic for the past 10 years, and it always rounds off to two homers per game. Sound the alarm when it goes from 5.8 to 1.6.
Careful -- those sound like statistics. You don't want to become a stat geek, Bruce. But, as long as you have dipped your toe in an ocean that you don't understand, let me say this: the sentence "it always rounds off to two homers per game" is stupid beyond belief. Considering there are 2430 games played a year, the difference between a HR/game ratio of, say 2.49 and 1.51 (not that that really exists, but for the sake of argument), both of which would round off to "2", would mean a difference of 2381 HR/year. Even a difference of 2.49 and 2.00 means 1190 more/less HR per year. Which seems significant to me.
The drop-off from 2.25 to 2.08, at which you scoff, is a difference of more than 400 HR hit. That's a lot of HR.
For the record, if it ever went from 5.8 to 1.6, that would mean a drop-off of more than 10,000 HR/year, which would either mean that baseball's rules had changed to force 6 year-old children to play all OF positions, or that an alien invasion had killed 80% of major leaguers.
"Well, at least we know that guys like Brian Roberts, Adam Dunn and Todd Helton are clean."
Listen, that's probably true. There isn't one bit of evidence to the contrary. But clean living, or a simple lifestyle, offers no clues about steroid use. This isn't about robbing a drug store; it's a procession of the dim-witted, lining up like sheep to stay up with a trend. Don't say you're certain that someone is clean, because you don't know that -- just as you don't know if any alleged steroid abuser is clean this season.
Fantastic. Let's assume every single MLBer is on steroids. Great plan. That will make baseball really fun. Let's also assume all former NFL running backs are potential murderers. Can they prove they are not? And just for the hell of it, I will also go ahead and assume that since you are a complete idiot, all baseball writers are idiots, until they can prove otherwise.
Also, Junior already dealt with this, but it makes me so angry I have to chime in (see below for full quote):
But no matter how modern-day statisticians try to downplay traditional numbers, there's a volume of meaning in .178, .230, .289 and .337, at least when based over a long period of time.
The reason we "stat geeks" hate BA is because people think a guy who hits .306 is way better than a guy who hits .285, when in actuality, that represents like nine additional bleeders through the infield over the course of a year. Obviously, Bruce, you ignoramus, there is a great deal of difference between .178 and .337. Because that's a lot of hits. But ten points (or even 20) of BA over the course of a year can be attributed almost entirely to luck and situational karma for a hitter. In order to measure a batter's worth, you simply cannot use BA. End of story.
