I will preface this rant by saying that I know that being a baseball announcer, particularly on radio, is not easy. There is a lot of air time to fill between pitches, and sometimes an announcer can't help but ramble on a little bit. However, it's gotten to the point where there is simply no excuse for some of the stupid things that are said on the air these days. Whether it be ignoring, or being ignorant of, available statistics, or spouting stupid cliches, baseball announcers far too frequently do far too little to educate their audience. In reality, that's a huge part of their job.
Take for example last Thursday's game between the Mets and the Rockies. Daniel Murphy made a nice play at first base, and Mets TV play-by-play man Gary Cohen said something along the lines of, "wow, Murphy has simply been a different player since moving to first base." As Mets fans know, he opened the season in left field but was such a disaster there that the Mets put him at first base when Carlos Delgado got injured. Now, there is some truth to what Cohen is saying. Murphy has gone from being a defensive liability to being at least average for his position with the leather. But the implication in Cohen's comment was that Murphy, having been freed from the pressures of left field, was no longer letting his struggles in the field affect him mentally and allowing him to flourish as a player. That could not be further from the truth. Check out his splits.
As a first baseman .237/.310/.362 in 200 plate appearances
As a leftfielder .260/.339/.390 in 116 plate appearances
As a turns out, he has been a different player at first base—a worse one. And what bothers me about Cohen's statement is that this information is available at his fingertips, literally. You can go to any number of baseball websites to get this info, and there is a laptop sitting between Cohen and his color commentator(s) in the booth! By not sharing this information with the audience, Cohen is being lazy and misleading his audience. I don't mean to pick on Cohen, who is usually quite good and honest in his assessment of the Mets. But this type of analysis is all too typical of modern baseball announcers. Like, for example, the Mets radio announcers.
I was listening today as I tried to sweat out my hangover on a run through the park, and I had to laugh at a few gems from announcer Wayne Hagin. First, he was talking about Mets relievers Pat Misch, and he said something like, "Misch has only allowed two runs in his last eight-plus innings of work, but the problem is that he has allowed three of his 14 inherited runners to score. As you now, the key to being a good reliever is keeping those runners on base."
Besides being the master of the obvious, Hagin's comment is problematic for all sorts of reasons. For starters, I have no idea if that is actually a good or bad strand percentage. And if somone like me, whose job and hobby is baseball, doesn't know, than I am sure the average fan does not know. So we have absolutely no context for this statistic he just spouted. Second, this stat doesn't pass the sniff test. Allowing just three of 14 inherited runners (21.4%) sounds pretty good to me. Sure enough, it is! The MLB average is 33%, so Misch has actually been doing a damn good job as a Mets at preventing inherited runners from scoring, so why didn't Hagin look this up like I just did? When talking about esoteric statistics, context matters more than ever, and this was just plain laziness.
That wasn't even Hagin's worst crime that I heard in the 30 minutes I was listening. While discussing Jon Garland, who was shutting down the Mets, Hagin went on and on about how Garland has won 18 games twice, and won 14 last year. But this year, he is just 5-10 (now 6-10 after his CG against the Mets) and not pitching as well. Maybe the 14 wins had something to do with pitching for the team with the best record in baseball last season (the Angels), while the losing record has something to do with pitching for a team with the ninth-worst record in MLB this year (the D-backs). Based on ERA+, a stat that measures ERA relative to the league average and adjust for ballpark effects, Garland is actually better this year. His ERA+ last year was 91 (100 is average), and its 102 this year, and Baseball Reference hasn't even updated it yet after his performance against the Mets. And if you don't want to get into ERA+, you can simply mention that Garland's ERA is actually quite better this year, and his 14 wins last year were clearly a result of playing for a great team. Heck, he had a 4.90 ERA in 2008, and this year it is 4.26. (Yes, he went to the non-DH league, but he is also pitching in one of the better hitter's parks around, so that evens things out a bit.) Point is, he is actually pitching better this year, but his record is worse because he pitches for a mediocre team. Reason #2,362 why wins are a dumb stat to measure pitcher performance.
I realize that I look at the game with a statistical bent, and I don't expect every announcer and fan to look at the game in the same way I do. However, if your job is to be a baseball announcer, you should be aware of these stats, and you should show a willingness to share this data with your audience. Even if you don't necessarily agree with it, you'll be educating your audience, and illuminating the discussion of the game. And all of this can be done without having to bring in VORP, WARP, or any other advanced metric that gives statheads a bad rap. Ignorance, as it turns out, is not bliss.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Bill James And Music? Read On.
This actually isn't another post about baseball, but it will use a baseball analogy. Allow me to explain.
In a recent blog post about Luke Hochevar's 13 strikeouts, no walk performance last weekend, Joe Posnanski brought up an old Bill James theory called "signature significance." The idea is that you typically can't glean too much from one pitching performance, but there are some performances that are so dominant, that they are indicative for greatness. In James' example, if a pitcher strikes out 15 without walking anyone, that probably means the pitcher is a star. In fact, it's more indicative than a no-hitter would be. There have been 21 pitchers in history to turn the 15 K, 0 BB trick, and 20 of them were either Hall of Famers or All-Star quality. The odd man out is Sterling Hitchcock, and even he pitched in the big leagues for more than a decade.
Anyway, I've started to wonder if "signature significance" applies to other walks of life. I'm headed to the All Points West music festival tomorrow, and while there a number of acts that I am quite familiar with (Heartless Bastards, Q-Tip, Vampire Weekend, Jay-Z), I've been trying to check out some of the other performers who I don't know nearly as well. One of those acts is Ra Ra Riot, and I was immediately blown away when I went to their MySpace page and listened to "Can You Tell." Quite simply, it's a fucking amazing song. If you disagree, I'm not sure we can be friends. Great melody, simple, yet affective, lyrics, and a fantastic arrangement. I've probably listened to it roughly 25 times in the last two days.
(My only question is, what does "I'm standing by your sister fair," mean? Every other lyric makes perfect sense besides that one.)
So this song got me thinking, does the ability to produce one song on this level indicate a truly special ability to create music? I downloaded the rest of Ra Ra Riot's album, and though I haven't listened to it intently, I can say with confidence that it's good. But does one transcendent song guarantee a band is going to be great? And even if for some insane reason you don't think this song is great, I think you get the point.
I know what you're probably thinking. There are tons of one-hit wonders out there, and none of those are great artists. However, let's be honest about most one-hit wonders, the songs are usually catchy, but they're not great. I can listen to "Walkin' On Sunshine" everyday for the rest of my life and I won't tire of it, but that doesn't mean that it's a great song, and Katrina And The Waves a great band. It's a fun song that's incredibly catchy, but not transcendent. There is a difference.
(Sadly, YouTube won't let me embed the video for "Walkin' On Sunshine," but here's the link if you're interested.)
Obviously, judging signature significance for bands is far more subjective than it is for baseball. I'm actually inclined to think it doesn't exist, but I can't think of a good example. However, that doesn't mean it's not out there. Typically, when someone is trying to get me hooked on a new band, they will play me that band's best song. And if I think that song is worthy, then I will decide that the band must at least be decent if they made at least one song that good. So maybe, to borrow a phrase from the Geto Boys, my mind's playing tricks on me.
I can say with certainty that "signature significance" does not exist for filmmakers, and I can think of two examples. "Swingers" is an iconic movie, and Jon Favreau hasn't made a good one since. The same goes for "The Sixth Sense," which is the only M. Night Shyamalan movie worth a crap.
Anyway, I'm pretty fucking pumped for All Points West. I was disappointed when The Beastie Boys had to cancel cause of cancer (feel better, MCA!), because I have never seen them before. And like every white kid who grew up in NYC from 1986-2001, I went through a huge Beastie Boys phase during high school. Maybe teenagers are still going through Beastie Boys phases, but I doubt it. Since Q-Tip will also be at APW, I figured he would come on to do "Get It Together" with the Beasties. I'm disappointed that won't happen. Jay-Z, however, is a more-than-adequate replacement. I was at Hot 97 Summer Jam in 2001 when he first performed "The Takeover" and started his beef with Nas, so he's got a lot to live up to. Maybe he'll start shit with Soulja Boy. That would be awesome.
In a recent blog post about Luke Hochevar's 13 strikeouts, no walk performance last weekend, Joe Posnanski brought up an old Bill James theory called "signature significance." The idea is that you typically can't glean too much from one pitching performance, but there are some performances that are so dominant, that they are indicative for greatness. In James' example, if a pitcher strikes out 15 without walking anyone, that probably means the pitcher is a star. In fact, it's more indicative than a no-hitter would be. There have been 21 pitchers in history to turn the 15 K, 0 BB trick, and 20 of them were either Hall of Famers or All-Star quality. The odd man out is Sterling Hitchcock, and even he pitched in the big leagues for more than a decade.
Anyway, I've started to wonder if "signature significance" applies to other walks of life. I'm headed to the All Points West music festival tomorrow, and while there a number of acts that I am quite familiar with (Heartless Bastards, Q-Tip, Vampire Weekend, Jay-Z), I've been trying to check out some of the other performers who I don't know nearly as well. One of those acts is Ra Ra Riot, and I was immediately blown away when I went to their MySpace page and listened to "Can You Tell." Quite simply, it's a fucking amazing song. If you disagree, I'm not sure we can be friends. Great melody, simple, yet affective, lyrics, and a fantastic arrangement. I've probably listened to it roughly 25 times in the last two days.
(My only question is, what does "I'm standing by your sister fair," mean? Every other lyric makes perfect sense besides that one.)
So this song got me thinking, does the ability to produce one song on this level indicate a truly special ability to create music? I downloaded the rest of Ra Ra Riot's album, and though I haven't listened to it intently, I can say with confidence that it's good. But does one transcendent song guarantee a band is going to be great? And even if for some insane reason you don't think this song is great, I think you get the point.
I know what you're probably thinking. There are tons of one-hit wonders out there, and none of those are great artists. However, let's be honest about most one-hit wonders, the songs are usually catchy, but they're not great. I can listen to "Walkin' On Sunshine" everyday for the rest of my life and I won't tire of it, but that doesn't mean that it's a great song, and Katrina And The Waves a great band. It's a fun song that's incredibly catchy, but not transcendent. There is a difference.
(Sadly, YouTube won't let me embed the video for "Walkin' On Sunshine," but here's the link if you're interested.)
Obviously, judging signature significance for bands is far more subjective than it is for baseball. I'm actually inclined to think it doesn't exist, but I can't think of a good example. However, that doesn't mean it's not out there. Typically, when someone is trying to get me hooked on a new band, they will play me that band's best song. And if I think that song is worthy, then I will decide that the band must at least be decent if they made at least one song that good. So maybe, to borrow a phrase from the Geto Boys, my mind's playing tricks on me.
I can say with certainty that "signature significance" does not exist for filmmakers, and I can think of two examples. "Swingers" is an iconic movie, and Jon Favreau hasn't made a good one since. The same goes for "The Sixth Sense," which is the only M. Night Shyamalan movie worth a crap.
Anyway, I'm pretty fucking pumped for All Points West. I was disappointed when The Beastie Boys had to cancel cause of cancer (feel better, MCA!), because I have never seen them before. And like every white kid who grew up in NYC from 1986-2001, I went through a huge Beastie Boys phase during high school. Maybe teenagers are still going through Beastie Boys phases, but I doubt it. Since Q-Tip will also be at APW, I figured he would come on to do "Get It Together" with the Beasties. I'm disappointed that won't happen. Jay-Z, however, is a more-than-adequate replacement. I was at Hot 97 Summer Jam in 2001 when he first performed "The Takeover" and started his beef with Nas, so he's got a lot to live up to. Maybe he'll start shit with Soulja Boy. That would be awesome.
Monday, July 27, 2009
The Hits Just Keep On Coming
You know, if not for the train wreck that is my favorite baseball team, this blog would probably die. Fortunately, the Mets keep giving me things to write about, and one day soon I will get back to weaving pop culture irreverence into this space. Until then, how about those Mets?
They finally do the smart thing by firing assistant GM Tony Bernazard who has been the source all sorts of bad press of late, but then GM Omar Minaya undermines any good press he might have gotten by attacking Daily News writer Adam Rubin, the guy who broke the story that paved the way for Bernazard's firing.
For those who missed it, Minaya essentially accused Rubin of trying to take down Bernazard in the paper as a way of paving the way for him (Rubin) to get a job in the organization. Because, as Minaya says, Rubin has been lobbying for a job with the Mets organization for years. As someone who loves the Mets, works in the media, and has covered the Mets organization, this is right in my wheelhouse.
In the interest of full disclosure, I will say that when I was working at Baseball America, Adam Rubin was our Mets correspondent. At the time, I was responsible for rating the prospects in the Mets organization, so he and I exchanged e-mails from time to time. We are not close and have not been in touch in years, and I don't know him well enough to know if any of these allegations are true. And as far I'm concerned, that point is moot anyway. The reality of the situation is that pretty much everything I have ever heard about Bernazard is bad, and that goes back a few years. Even Ken Davidoff, a baseball writer for Newsday, wrote the following on his Twitter account: "Bernazard firing is a victory for humankind." So yeah, Rubin is not the only writer who was not a fan of Bernazard. And based on what came out about him in the last week, he probably deserved to be fired.
That said, let's go back to Minaya's press conference and dissect this debacle step by step.
1) Let's say Rubin has lobbied for a job with the organization, that is a problem. He needs to be objective as the Mets beat writer, and this would clearly compromise him. However, he's not an idiot. He knows he was not about to go from beat writer to VP of player development, which was Bernazard's job. Omar's accusation just doesn't make sense. And if Rubin was trying to curry favor with the Mets brass, why would he be ripping them to shreds in The Daily News? If anything, wouldn't he be praising the Mets? If I want a job with the Mets, I'm not writing lengthy features in the Sunday edition that discuss how Minaya has ruined the farm system. Two Sundays ago, that is what Rubin did.
2) Even if Rubin has lobbied for a job with the Mets, that does not absolve Bernazard's behavior. In fact, by firing Bernazard, the Mets are acknowleding that everything Rubin wrote about Bernazard is true. If it wasn't true, shouldn't they be supporting Bernazard, as opposed to giving him the heave-ho? And what's even more laughable is that the press release regarding the firing said, "Prior to a series of articles published in the media, our Baseball Operations and Human Resources departments had begun looking into several matters involving Tony."
For starters, it's unlikely that this is even true. I doubt the Mets started to investigate until the press got bad, and Omar basically said as much in the press conference. But say let's it's true, and the club was looking into Bernazard before Rubin broke the story of him tearing off his shirt and challenging a minor league team to a fight. If it is true, it means that the organization was already skeptical of Bernazard's antics, and didn't need guys like Adam Rubin to point it out. Therefore, Minaya makes no sense when he questions how all the negative stories about Bernazard seemed to come from the same source, because they knew about all this stuff even before Rubin reported it.
3) Oh, and not all the negative stories came from Rubin. The one about Bernazard yelling at a Mets baseball operations employee who suggested Bernazard wait until the inning was over before taking the seat of a D-backs' scout, that was written by Bill Madden.
4) What is Minaya trying to gain? Let's say Rubin violated some ethical code of journalism by lobbying for a job, that doesn't make Bernazard (or the Mets) any less of a disaster (see #2). How is it possible for a team that seems to be consumed with PR, so bad at it? I had the press conference on at my desk, and I muted it because Minaya was so awkward in his explanation of the firing. It was only when someone alerted me to the Rubin debacle that I turned on the volume. How hard would it have been for Omar to say, "Bernazard acted in a manner that we felt did not represent this organization. It was hard to let him go because he is a friend of mine, but we were left with no choice after our internal investigation found that he acted inappropriately on a number of occasions." Seriously, would that really have been so hard? And then, all he would need to do is keep paraphrasing that in some form each time a reporter asked you a question.
All that being said, this is by far my favorite Mets-related controversy of the season, so I'm really enjoying it. But if it turns out that Omar was lying about Rubin's job inquiries, and this hurts Rubin's career, I'll feel less good about it.
They finally do the smart thing by firing assistant GM Tony Bernazard who has been the source all sorts of bad press of late, but then GM Omar Minaya undermines any good press he might have gotten by attacking Daily News writer Adam Rubin, the guy who broke the story that paved the way for Bernazard's firing.
For those who missed it, Minaya essentially accused Rubin of trying to take down Bernazard in the paper as a way of paving the way for him (Rubin) to get a job in the organization. Because, as Minaya says, Rubin has been lobbying for a job with the Mets organization for years. As someone who loves the Mets, works in the media, and has covered the Mets organization, this is right in my wheelhouse.
In the interest of full disclosure, I will say that when I was working at Baseball America, Adam Rubin was our Mets correspondent. At the time, I was responsible for rating the prospects in the Mets organization, so he and I exchanged e-mails from time to time. We are not close and have not been in touch in years, and I don't know him well enough to know if any of these allegations are true. And as far I'm concerned, that point is moot anyway. The reality of the situation is that pretty much everything I have ever heard about Bernazard is bad, and that goes back a few years. Even Ken Davidoff, a baseball writer for Newsday, wrote the following on his Twitter account: "Bernazard firing is a victory for humankind." So yeah, Rubin is not the only writer who was not a fan of Bernazard. And based on what came out about him in the last week, he probably deserved to be fired.
That said, let's go back to Minaya's press conference and dissect this debacle step by step.
1) Let's say Rubin has lobbied for a job with the organization, that is a problem. He needs to be objective as the Mets beat writer, and this would clearly compromise him. However, he's not an idiot. He knows he was not about to go from beat writer to VP of player development, which was Bernazard's job. Omar's accusation just doesn't make sense. And if Rubin was trying to curry favor with the Mets brass, why would he be ripping them to shreds in The Daily News? If anything, wouldn't he be praising the Mets? If I want a job with the Mets, I'm not writing lengthy features in the Sunday edition that discuss how Minaya has ruined the farm system. Two Sundays ago, that is what Rubin did.
2) Even if Rubin has lobbied for a job with the Mets, that does not absolve Bernazard's behavior. In fact, by firing Bernazard, the Mets are acknowleding that everything Rubin wrote about Bernazard is true. If it wasn't true, shouldn't they be supporting Bernazard, as opposed to giving him the heave-ho? And what's even more laughable is that the press release regarding the firing said, "Prior to a series of articles published in the media, our Baseball Operations and Human Resources departments had begun looking into several matters involving Tony."
For starters, it's unlikely that this is even true. I doubt the Mets started to investigate until the press got bad, and Omar basically said as much in the press conference. But say let's it's true, and the club was looking into Bernazard before Rubin broke the story of him tearing off his shirt and challenging a minor league team to a fight. If it is true, it means that the organization was already skeptical of Bernazard's antics, and didn't need guys like Adam Rubin to point it out. Therefore, Minaya makes no sense when he questions how all the negative stories about Bernazard seemed to come from the same source, because they knew about all this stuff even before Rubin reported it.
3) Oh, and not all the negative stories came from Rubin. The one about Bernazard yelling at a Mets baseball operations employee who suggested Bernazard wait until the inning was over before taking the seat of a D-backs' scout, that was written by Bill Madden.
4) What is Minaya trying to gain? Let's say Rubin violated some ethical code of journalism by lobbying for a job, that doesn't make Bernazard (or the Mets) any less of a disaster (see #2). How is it possible for a team that seems to be consumed with PR, so bad at it? I had the press conference on at my desk, and I muted it because Minaya was so awkward in his explanation of the firing. It was only when someone alerted me to the Rubin debacle that I turned on the volume. How hard would it have been for Omar to say, "Bernazard acted in a manner that we felt did not represent this organization. It was hard to let him go because he is a friend of mine, but we were left with no choice after our internal investigation found that he acted inappropriately on a number of occasions." Seriously, would that really have been so hard? And then, all he would need to do is keep paraphrasing that in some form each time a reporter asked you a question.
All that being said, this is by far my favorite Mets-related controversy of the season, so I'm really enjoying it. But if it turns out that Omar was lying about Rubin's job inquiries, and this hurts Rubin's career, I'll feel less good about it.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Hey Now, You're An All-Star
OK, so how cool is Obama? He was giving shit to Pujols about not winning the home run derby in his home park, and this came after him signing an autograph for Ichiro. And Ichiro looked like a giddy little school girl as he waited for Obama’s signature.
Anyway, I’m watching the All-Star Game and I have to say that I’m kind of enjoying it. (Other than Sherryl Crow’s performance, I hate her.) I don’t really like the whole, “this time it counts” thing, but at least it makes the game relevant to some degree. As I discussed in an a piece I wrote for Baseball Prospectus last summer, I just wish that they would commit to it being a meaningful game. That means letting the best players play the entire game (rotating pitchers, of course), as opposed to treating it like a Little League game. And yes, I’m willing to sacrifice Freddy Sanchez’s at-bats for the cause. Sorry, Pirates fans.
But even if MLB decides to ignore my preference, that’s fine with me. I’ve come to the realization that the All-Star Game, as well as the home run derby, is not geared toward the hyper-obsessive fan such as myself. I used to love, and I mean LOVE, the All-Star Game when I was a kid. So much so that I remember forcing my father to record the end of the 1987 game after I was told I had to go to bed. I watched it the next day after I got back from camp, and I got to see Tim Raines hit a two-run triple in the top of the 13th inning to give the NL the 2-0 win. (Note: I looked that up, but I definitely remember Raines getting an extra-base hit to win it. But I did not recall that it was a triple to score Ozzie Virgil and Hubie Brooks, or that Sid Fernandez got the save. Go Mets!)
My favorite part of the All-Star Game as a kid was that the Mets wore white cleats. I don’t know why, but I got a huge kick out of this. I guess it indicated what a special occasion it was, because I never understood why the Mets didn’t wear white cleats during the regular season. In retrospect, that was probably a good things because white cleats look dumb on baseball players, but when I was eight years old, seeing the Mets wear white cleats represented status. As a kid, that meant something. Ah, the simple pleasures.
Anyway, I’m watching the All-Star Game and I have to say that I’m kind of enjoying it. (Other than Sherryl Crow’s performance, I hate her.) I don’t really like the whole, “this time it counts” thing, but at least it makes the game relevant to some degree. As I discussed in an a piece I wrote for Baseball Prospectus last summer, I just wish that they would commit to it being a meaningful game. That means letting the best players play the entire game (rotating pitchers, of course), as opposed to treating it like a Little League game. And yes, I’m willing to sacrifice Freddy Sanchez’s at-bats for the cause. Sorry, Pirates fans.
But even if MLB decides to ignore my preference, that’s fine with me. I’ve come to the realization that the All-Star Game, as well as the home run derby, is not geared toward the hyper-obsessive fan such as myself. I used to love, and I mean LOVE, the All-Star Game when I was a kid. So much so that I remember forcing my father to record the end of the 1987 game after I was told I had to go to bed. I watched it the next day after I got back from camp, and I got to see Tim Raines hit a two-run triple in the top of the 13th inning to give the NL the 2-0 win. (Note: I looked that up, but I definitely remember Raines getting an extra-base hit to win it. But I did not recall that it was a triple to score Ozzie Virgil and Hubie Brooks, or that Sid Fernandez got the save. Go Mets!)
My favorite part of the All-Star Game as a kid was that the Mets wore white cleats. I don’t know why, but I got a huge kick out of this. I guess it indicated what a special occasion it was, because I never understood why the Mets didn’t wear white cleats during the regular season. In retrospect, that was probably a good things because white cleats look dumb on baseball players, but when I was eight years old, seeing the Mets wear white cleats represented status. As a kid, that meant something. Ah, the simple pleasures.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Stay Hot, Mets
You know, there’s nothing quite like a perplexing Mets transaction to end this blog’s hiatus. I have a million thoughts on this Jeff Francoeur-for-Ryan Church swap, in fact, it might be more like a billion. I could probably write a book about my thoughts on this trade and what it says about how teams judge performance. Frankly, I don’t really know where to begin, and I apologize in advance if I start rambling.
My first recollection of Jeff Francoeur is seeing him play for the Myrtle Beach Pelicans in 2004. My friend Dan and I took a road trip down to Myrtle and went to games in Philly, Richmond and Durham along the way. The game in Myrtle Beach, however, was by far the most fun. Not only was the weather absolutely gorgeous, but the Pelicans featured Franoeur and Brian McCann, who we knew from our John Sickels’ prospect book as two of the game’s best prospects. (The game also featured a guy named Nathan Panther, quite possibly the coolest name ever. But I digress.)
On that day, it was clear that Frenchy was by far the most talented player on the field. He was a gazelle chasing down flies in right, and he absolutely crushed two balls to the warning track. I realize that doesn’t sound that impressive, but hitting one out of Myrtle Beach is like hitting one out of Yellowstone. That place is enormous, and the wind is coming in from the ocean. So getting it to the track is a feat in it’s own right.
The point is that Francoeur stood out as obviously the most talented, and that’s often hard to do in a baseball. If you took an alien to a Cleveland Cavaliers game, it would have no trouble identifying LeBron as the best player out there. But if you took that same alien to the Mets game today, it might not be able to identify David Wright as the Mets best player by far. He might strike out twice and make a throwing error, while Angel Pagan hits a double, steals a base, and makes a diving catch in the outfield. Not to mention the fact that Pagan looks good in a baseball uniform. Baseball is not a game of instant satisfaction. You need to see lots and lots of games before you can decide who is the best. Why the fuck else do you think they play 162 games?
And that’s the problem with Francoeur. When he does something good (and these days, that’s rare) he looks good doing it. Like Pagan, he looks good in a baseball uniform. He’s sinewy, and he has what scouts like to call a “high ass.” And yes, this a good thing. Oh, and he wears his socks in such a way that makes him look like a ballplayer. When he connects, he can hit it a country mile. And when he unleashes a throw from right, he gives new meaning to the term “frozen rope.” So even though there are thousands and thousands of at-bats that tell us that Jeff Francoeur is a bad major league baseball player, a lot of people simply cannot believe it because our eyes see a superstar. And even if doesn’t play like one now, he once did, and he sure as shit looks like one. Ryan Church, on the other hand, never does anything on a baseball field that amazes you. Check that. With the exception of missing third base and costing the Mets a win, Ryan Curch never does anything on a baseball field that amazes you. As a result, he just seems like a guy. And it’s true, Ryan Church is nothing special.
This is a phenomenon Joe Posnanski discusses in his analysis of the Royals trade for Yuniesky Betancourt. He refers to it as the power of everlasting promise, and that is something Francoeur has coming out of his cleats. For God’s sake, he was dubbed “The Natural” on the cover of Sports Illustrated. When a player shows promise at a young age and does things the way we think they are supposed to be done and looks the part while doing it, they continually get the benefit of the doubt. If Francouer hadn’t hit .400 for the first three weeks of his career, he would have been in the minors for most of the last two years because his sub-.300 OBP has shown him to be an out machine unseen since the days of Rey Ordonez.
Speaking of the Betancourt deal, when I first heard about it, my reaction was, “that’s something the Mets would do.” And after the Frenchy trade, I am now convinced the Mets are essentially the Royals, but with a bigger bank account. Maybe that should be their promotional slogan next year.
The problem with the Francoeur trade from a Mets perspective is not that they gave up Ryan Church. The problem with this trade is what it says about the Mets line of thinking. Basically, the Mets are saying, “I don’t care that Luis Castillo has had a higher OPS than Frenchy the last two years, he looks good to us.” This is essentially the same line of thinking that led to them choosing Omir Santos over Ramon Castro for reasons that I still cannot comprehend.
To me, this trade reeks of arrogance. Are the Mets really that confident that they are smarter than the Braves? I’ve got 20 years of evidence that says otherwise. And when all semi-advanced metrics say that Frenchy is not only below average, but below replacement level, then you better be sure you know what you’re doing, because I can’t think of any other reason that you would seek out the Braves to acquire Francoeur, which is apparently what the Mets did. Because as bad as the Mets have been, some of the guys they have been playing in left and right (Evans, Reed, Tatis) are actually performing better than Frenchy has for the last season and a half.
Maybe the Mets believe they can “fix” Frenchy and unleash the 2005 version of him. I sure hope so. And in many ways, this is a referendum on the organization’s ability to evaluate talent. Because if you’re clearly not a club that evaluates players based on stats, and the Mets have proved that they aren’t, then you better be good at scouting. (In reality, you should be good at both, but we can’t have everything.) This is what disappoints me most about the Mets, I don’t think they give a rats ass about performance evaluation. Omar Minaya might be a good scout, but I don’t think he has a nuanced feel for a statistical analysis, nor does anyone else in the organization. If they did, they wouldn’t have chosen Santos over Castro, and sought out a trade for Francoeur. The Mets have the most resources of an NL team, yet they have made the playoffs just three times since 1988! My friends have heard me say it before, and I’ll say it again: No team in baseball (and possible all American pro sports) does less with more than the Mets.
The one semi-interesting yet fairly irrelevant thing I found about Frenchy is this, and we can thank Baseball Reference’s play index for this discovery. As has been laughably noted elsewhere, Omar Minaya praised Francoeur for his ability to “play in a lot of games,” so I decided to see how he stacks up against other people who have played in 162 games in a season. In 2006, Frenchy became just one of two players in history to play in all 162 games while striking out more than 120 times and posting an OBP less than or equal to .300. The other? Well that would be Sammy Sosa in 1997, the year before he hit 66 home runs. Sadly, since Frenchy did this three years ago, we can’t even dream of a home run breakout, because he hasn’t even been good enough to be allowed to play 162 games in any of the last two years. Sigh.
My first recollection of Jeff Francoeur is seeing him play for the Myrtle Beach Pelicans in 2004. My friend Dan and I took a road trip down to Myrtle and went to games in Philly, Richmond and Durham along the way. The game in Myrtle Beach, however, was by far the most fun. Not only was the weather absolutely gorgeous, but the Pelicans featured Franoeur and Brian McCann, who we knew from our John Sickels’ prospect book as two of the game’s best prospects. (The game also featured a guy named Nathan Panther, quite possibly the coolest name ever. But I digress.)
On that day, it was clear that Frenchy was by far the most talented player on the field. He was a gazelle chasing down flies in right, and he absolutely crushed two balls to the warning track. I realize that doesn’t sound that impressive, but hitting one out of Myrtle Beach is like hitting one out of Yellowstone. That place is enormous, and the wind is coming in from the ocean. So getting it to the track is a feat in it’s own right.
The point is that Francoeur stood out as obviously the most talented, and that’s often hard to do in a baseball. If you took an alien to a Cleveland Cavaliers game, it would have no trouble identifying LeBron as the best player out there. But if you took that same alien to the Mets game today, it might not be able to identify David Wright as the Mets best player by far. He might strike out twice and make a throwing error, while Angel Pagan hits a double, steals a base, and makes a diving catch in the outfield. Not to mention the fact that Pagan looks good in a baseball uniform. Baseball is not a game of instant satisfaction. You need to see lots and lots of games before you can decide who is the best. Why the fuck else do you think they play 162 games?
And that’s the problem with Francoeur. When he does something good (and these days, that’s rare) he looks good doing it. Like Pagan, he looks good in a baseball uniform. He’s sinewy, and he has what scouts like to call a “high ass.” And yes, this a good thing. Oh, and he wears his socks in such a way that makes him look like a ballplayer. When he connects, he can hit it a country mile. And when he unleashes a throw from right, he gives new meaning to the term “frozen rope.” So even though there are thousands and thousands of at-bats that tell us that Jeff Francoeur is a bad major league baseball player, a lot of people simply cannot believe it because our eyes see a superstar. And even if doesn’t play like one now, he once did, and he sure as shit looks like one. Ryan Church, on the other hand, never does anything on a baseball field that amazes you. Check that. With the exception of missing third base and costing the Mets a win, Ryan Curch never does anything on a baseball field that amazes you. As a result, he just seems like a guy. And it’s true, Ryan Church is nothing special.
This is a phenomenon Joe Posnanski discusses in his analysis of the Royals trade for Yuniesky Betancourt. He refers to it as the power of everlasting promise, and that is something Francoeur has coming out of his cleats. For God’s sake, he was dubbed “The Natural” on the cover of Sports Illustrated. When a player shows promise at a young age and does things the way we think they are supposed to be done and looks the part while doing it, they continually get the benefit of the doubt. If Francouer hadn’t hit .400 for the first three weeks of his career, he would have been in the minors for most of the last two years because his sub-.300 OBP has shown him to be an out machine unseen since the days of Rey Ordonez.
Speaking of the Betancourt deal, when I first heard about it, my reaction was, “that’s something the Mets would do.” And after the Frenchy trade, I am now convinced the Mets are essentially the Royals, but with a bigger bank account. Maybe that should be their promotional slogan next year.
The problem with the Francoeur trade from a Mets perspective is not that they gave up Ryan Church. The problem with this trade is what it says about the Mets line of thinking. Basically, the Mets are saying, “I don’t care that Luis Castillo has had a higher OPS than Frenchy the last two years, he looks good to us.” This is essentially the same line of thinking that led to them choosing Omir Santos over Ramon Castro for reasons that I still cannot comprehend.
To me, this trade reeks of arrogance. Are the Mets really that confident that they are smarter than the Braves? I’ve got 20 years of evidence that says otherwise. And when all semi-advanced metrics say that Frenchy is not only below average, but below replacement level, then you better be sure you know what you’re doing, because I can’t think of any other reason that you would seek out the Braves to acquire Francoeur, which is apparently what the Mets did. Because as bad as the Mets have been, some of the guys they have been playing in left and right (Evans, Reed, Tatis) are actually performing better than Frenchy has for the last season and a half.
Maybe the Mets believe they can “fix” Frenchy and unleash the 2005 version of him. I sure hope so. And in many ways, this is a referendum on the organization’s ability to evaluate talent. Because if you’re clearly not a club that evaluates players based on stats, and the Mets have proved that they aren’t, then you better be good at scouting. (In reality, you should be good at both, but we can’t have everything.) This is what disappoints me most about the Mets, I don’t think they give a rats ass about performance evaluation. Omar Minaya might be a good scout, but I don’t think he has a nuanced feel for a statistical analysis, nor does anyone else in the organization. If they did, they wouldn’t have chosen Santos over Castro, and sought out a trade for Francoeur. The Mets have the most resources of an NL team, yet they have made the playoffs just three times since 1988! My friends have heard me say it before, and I’ll say it again: No team in baseball (and possible all American pro sports) does less with more than the Mets.
The one semi-interesting yet fairly irrelevant thing I found about Frenchy is this, and we can thank Baseball Reference’s play index for this discovery. As has been laughably noted elsewhere, Omar Minaya praised Francoeur for his ability to “play in a lot of games,” so I decided to see how he stacks up against other people who have played in 162 games in a season. In 2006, Frenchy became just one of two players in history to play in all 162 games while striking out more than 120 times and posting an OBP less than or equal to .300. The other? Well that would be Sammy Sosa in 1997, the year before he hit 66 home runs. Sadly, since Frenchy did this three years ago, we can’t even dream of a home run breakout, because he hasn’t even been good enough to be allowed to play 162 games in any of the last two years. Sigh.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
A Very Dirty Sequel
I was in St. Louis for a wedding recently, and as my girlfriend and I were recovering from our hangovers on Sunday morning, we found ourselves watching Dirty Dancing.
I’ll be honest, I’ve always enjoyed Dirty Dancing despite the fact that it's pretty stupid. I guess it's what we like to call a "guilty pleasure." I remember when it first came out, my sister was absolutely obsessed with it. I think she saw it in the theater like five times, and she even had a giant poster in her room that featured Patrick Swayze sprawled out on the floor and unleashing those hungry eyes made famous by the film’s soundtrack. (Sorry to sell you out, Sis!) Speaking of the soundtrack, can someone explain to me why they mixed classic 1960s music with random 1980s songs? One minute we're listening to "Do You Love Me?" (or whatever that song is called), the next minute Swayze is singing "She's Like The Wind." This never made sense to me. Moving on.
Even though I’ve seen the movie a number of times, I’ve never really taken the time to think about it too critically—until now. And frankly, I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to Baby et al after the final dance. Are we supposed to think that they lived happily after? If not, then what is really the point? Some resort guest having a fling with an employee is nothing earth-shattering. Isn’t that why guys like Johnny and Robbie take those jobs? After college, my friend and I were thinking of trying to get a job at a resort to kill some time while we figured out our lives. I remember relaying this resort idea to a family friend in front of my mother. The friend said, “well, you better pack a lot of condoms.!” Yes, awkward.
I’d like to think that Baby and Johnny tried to make things work after their summer at Kellerman’s, and I’ve even laid out an idea for a sequel. I know they made that “Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights,” but that doesn’t count. Here’s how I see Dirty Dancing 2 playing out.
After the way things ended in the Catskills, there was no way Baby and Johnny were just going to let their romance die. They wowed the crowd, Mr. Houseman finally accepted Johnny, and Penny looked healthy. It would just be a waste to not try and build on that progress.
As we know, Baby was headed to Mt. Holyoke that fall, and we can only assume that she would have become heavily involved in their dance program. And surely, after learning all those sweet Mambo moves, she was the freshman sensation that fall. Of course, not all was well. Long-distance relationships are hard enough in the era of cell phones and e-mail, but they were even harder back in the 1960s. There was probably only one phone per hall, so that would make phone sex pretty much impossible. And I’d have to think Johnny wasn’t very good at writing letters. Besides, we know he had just been accepted into the housepainters union, so he was probably busy with that. So yeah, there would need to be some long-distance drama.
The other subplot that probably needs to be explored is Baby at an all-girls school. Remember, she chose Mt. Holyoke before meeting Johnny, and it wouldn’t be surprising if the Housemans sort of assumed she played for the other team. Based on the way her family treated her, it didn’t seem like Baby had ever really been involved with many guys. So even though she had Johnny, we can only assume that many of the lesbians at Mt. Holyoke were intrigued by the star freshman dancer. Johnny, always the ladies man, would surely want to exploit this on his frequent trips up to visit her. Remember, this is the 1960s, and we know baby has some hippy tendencies. (You see where I am going with this?) Let’s just say that Baby, Johnny end up in an open relationship with a senior named Mary. Moving on.
Baby ends up choreographing a big Mambo number for the spring recital, but she is having trouble teaching some of the more difficult steps. Being the nice guy that he is, Johnny ends up spending some of his spare time bringing it all together. The show is a huge success, and the Mt. Holyoke dance department is impressed by Johnny’s teaching ability, and they offer him a job as a guest instructor. He jumps at the opportunity to teach dancing full time while also being with Baby. They end up moving in together, and open up a private dance studio in Northamtpon as soon as Baby graduates.
I realize I might have jumped back and forth a little bit between tenses in that treatment right there, but I defy you to find a fan of the original that would not watch this sequel. And please, don’t try to steal this idea, it’s now been documented as mine thanks to the magic of blogspot.
I’ll be honest, I’ve always enjoyed Dirty Dancing despite the fact that it's pretty stupid. I guess it's what we like to call a "guilty pleasure." I remember when it first came out, my sister was absolutely obsessed with it. I think she saw it in the theater like five times, and she even had a giant poster in her room that featured Patrick Swayze sprawled out on the floor and unleashing those hungry eyes made famous by the film’s soundtrack. (Sorry to sell you out, Sis!) Speaking of the soundtrack, can someone explain to me why they mixed classic 1960s music with random 1980s songs? One minute we're listening to "Do You Love Me?" (or whatever that song is called), the next minute Swayze is singing "She's Like The Wind." This never made sense to me. Moving on.
Even though I’ve seen the movie a number of times, I’ve never really taken the time to think about it too critically—until now. And frankly, I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to Baby et al after the final dance. Are we supposed to think that they lived happily after? If not, then what is really the point? Some resort guest having a fling with an employee is nothing earth-shattering. Isn’t that why guys like Johnny and Robbie take those jobs? After college, my friend and I were thinking of trying to get a job at a resort to kill some time while we figured out our lives. I remember relaying this resort idea to a family friend in front of my mother. The friend said, “well, you better pack a lot of condoms.!” Yes, awkward.
I’d like to think that Baby and Johnny tried to make things work after their summer at Kellerman’s, and I’ve even laid out an idea for a sequel. I know they made that “Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights,” but that doesn’t count. Here’s how I see Dirty Dancing 2 playing out.
After the way things ended in the Catskills, there was no way Baby and Johnny were just going to let their romance die. They wowed the crowd, Mr. Houseman finally accepted Johnny, and Penny looked healthy. It would just be a waste to not try and build on that progress.
As we know, Baby was headed to Mt. Holyoke that fall, and we can only assume that she would have become heavily involved in their dance program. And surely, after learning all those sweet Mambo moves, she was the freshman sensation that fall. Of course, not all was well. Long-distance relationships are hard enough in the era of cell phones and e-mail, but they were even harder back in the 1960s. There was probably only one phone per hall, so that would make phone sex pretty much impossible. And I’d have to think Johnny wasn’t very good at writing letters. Besides, we know he had just been accepted into the housepainters union, so he was probably busy with that. So yeah, there would need to be some long-distance drama.
The other subplot that probably needs to be explored is Baby at an all-girls school. Remember, she chose Mt. Holyoke before meeting Johnny, and it wouldn’t be surprising if the Housemans sort of assumed she played for the other team. Based on the way her family treated her, it didn’t seem like Baby had ever really been involved with many guys. So even though she had Johnny, we can only assume that many of the lesbians at Mt. Holyoke were intrigued by the star freshman dancer. Johnny, always the ladies man, would surely want to exploit this on his frequent trips up to visit her. Remember, this is the 1960s, and we know baby has some hippy tendencies. (You see where I am going with this?) Let’s just say that Baby, Johnny end up in an open relationship with a senior named Mary. Moving on.
Baby ends up choreographing a big Mambo number for the spring recital, but she is having trouble teaching some of the more difficult steps. Being the nice guy that he is, Johnny ends up spending some of his spare time bringing it all together. The show is a huge success, and the Mt. Holyoke dance department is impressed by Johnny’s teaching ability, and they offer him a job as a guest instructor. He jumps at the opportunity to teach dancing full time while also being with Baby. They end up moving in together, and open up a private dance studio in Northamtpon as soon as Baby graduates.
I realize I might have jumped back and forth a little bit between tenses in that treatment right there, but I defy you to find a fan of the original that would not watch this sequel. And please, don’t try to steal this idea, it’s now been documented as mine thanks to the magic of blogspot.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Dear John Olerud*
I’ve been working on a massive post about a movie I recently re-watched and have a bunch of new thoughts on, but please indulge me with a post about a topic even more dear to my heart. You guessed it, that means another Mets post!
For the first time in a while I’m actually sort of feeling good about the Mets. For starters, they’re playing pretty well, and they are 5-1 in games I’ve attended this year, including Tuesday’s late-inning comeback against the Braves. (Yes, I’ve already been to six games. What of it?) Additionally, I am in the midst of reading “Faith And Fear In Flushing,” written by Greg Prince, who also writes a blog of the same name. Prince has a gift for making even the most loathsome and irritating Mets team seem somewhat loveable, and this book is highly enjoyable for any obsessive Mets fan.
When I was at the game on Friday, I was talking to my friend about a trivia question I saw on Joe Posnanski’s blog. Who has the highest career OPS as Mets (minimum 2,000 plate appearances)?
Like me, you’re first answer is probably Mike Piazza. And, like me, you’d be wrong. The answer, much to my surprise, is John Olerud. For obvious reasons, this got me doing some research on Olerud and the Mets.
For starters, the top five Mets OPS (min. 2,000 PAs) looks like this.
1. John Olerud .926
2. David Wright .921
3. Mike Piazza .915
4. Darryl Strawberry .879
5. Carlos Beltran .877
When you think about it a bit, this makes sense. Remember, John Olerud only spent three years with the Mets, and it was during what is typically the tail end of a player’s peak (age 28-30). Unlike Piazza, he was never around for his decline phase to drag down his OPS. If you take Piazza’s first three full years as a Met, which were, not coincidentally, his three best years, he had an OPS of .967.
Piazza isn’t really the point of all this. The point is that I think most Mets have forgotten just how good Olerud was for the Mets. More specifically, I think they’ve forgotten just how good Olerud was in 1998.
Most fans associate 1998 with Sosa and McGwire, the year we all fell back in love with baseball after the strike. In reality, it was the summer of Olerud. Did you remember that Olerud hit .354 that summer? I didn’t. Did you remember that he walked 96 times and struck out 73 times? I didn’t? Did you remember that his .447 OBP was second only to McGwire in all of baseball, higher than Bonds, and 70 points higher than Sosa? I definitely did not remember that.
In fact, Olerud’s adjusted OPS, which is a stat that that adjusts for home park and compares it to league average, was 163 (100 is average), and Sosa’s was 160. In the year that Sosa hit 66 homers and won NL MVP, Olerud had a higher adjusted OPS! How did I not know this?
And on top of all that, Olerud finished 12th in MVP voting! And this was for a team that was in contention until the last day of the season. I realize we have become far more savvy to the importance of OBP and park factors in the last 11 years (or at least I have), but that’s absurd. Then again, Sosa won MVP in a landslide, and I’m pretty sure I wrote a column in my college saying he should. Based on what I know now, McGwire was clearly a lot more valuable. And Olerud might have been as well.
*Prior to the season, I named my fantasy baseball team "Dear John Olerud." This was before I made my Olerud OPS revelation. Now I feel even better about my team name.
For the first time in a while I’m actually sort of feeling good about the Mets. For starters, they’re playing pretty well, and they are 5-1 in games I’ve attended this year, including Tuesday’s late-inning comeback against the Braves. (Yes, I’ve already been to six games. What of it?) Additionally, I am in the midst of reading “Faith And Fear In Flushing,” written by Greg Prince, who also writes a blog of the same name. Prince has a gift for making even the most loathsome and irritating Mets team seem somewhat loveable, and this book is highly enjoyable for any obsessive Mets fan.
When I was at the game on Friday, I was talking to my friend about a trivia question I saw on Joe Posnanski’s blog. Who has the highest career OPS as Mets (minimum 2,000 plate appearances)?
Like me, you’re first answer is probably Mike Piazza. And, like me, you’d be wrong. The answer, much to my surprise, is John Olerud. For obvious reasons, this got me doing some research on Olerud and the Mets.
For starters, the top five Mets OPS (min. 2,000 PAs) looks like this.
1. John Olerud .926
2. David Wright .921
3. Mike Piazza .915
4. Darryl Strawberry .879
5. Carlos Beltran .877
When you think about it a bit, this makes sense. Remember, John Olerud only spent three years with the Mets, and it was during what is typically the tail end of a player’s peak (age 28-30). Unlike Piazza, he was never around for his decline phase to drag down his OPS. If you take Piazza’s first three full years as a Met, which were, not coincidentally, his three best years, he had an OPS of .967.
Piazza isn’t really the point of all this. The point is that I think most Mets have forgotten just how good Olerud was for the Mets. More specifically, I think they’ve forgotten just how good Olerud was in 1998.
Most fans associate 1998 with Sosa and McGwire, the year we all fell back in love with baseball after the strike. In reality, it was the summer of Olerud. Did you remember that Olerud hit .354 that summer? I didn’t. Did you remember that he walked 96 times and struck out 73 times? I didn’t? Did you remember that his .447 OBP was second only to McGwire in all of baseball, higher than Bonds, and 70 points higher than Sosa? I definitely did not remember that.
In fact, Olerud’s adjusted OPS, which is a stat that that adjusts for home park and compares it to league average, was 163 (100 is average), and Sosa’s was 160. In the year that Sosa hit 66 homers and won NL MVP, Olerud had a higher adjusted OPS! How did I not know this?
And on top of all that, Olerud finished 12th in MVP voting! And this was for a team that was in contention until the last day of the season. I realize we have become far more savvy to the importance of OBP and park factors in the last 11 years (or at least I have), but that’s absurd. Then again, Sosa won MVP in a landslide, and I’m pretty sure I wrote a column in my college saying he should. Based on what I know now, McGwire was clearly a lot more valuable. And Olerud might have been as well.
*Prior to the season, I named my fantasy baseball team "Dear John Olerud." This was before I made my Olerud OPS revelation. Now I feel even better about my team name.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The Mets: Torture, Or Just Painful?
I will preface this post by saying that the impact of baseball managers is typically overstated. And usually, I do not like to play the game of blaming a manager or coach for a team’s failures.
Jerry Manuel is not the guy who can’t seem to drive in get a runner in from third with less than two outs. That’s David Wright. He is also not the guy who can’t seem to throw a freaking strike. That’s Ollie Perez. He is also not the big-name reliever who was brought in to protect one-run leads in the eighth inning, only to blow the first big spot he was put into. That’s J.J. Putz. So yes, Manuel is far from the only person to blame for the Mets malaise. What he is, however, is an idiot.
I hate to be harsh, but how else do you explain pinch-hitting Omir Santos for Ramon Castro in the ninth inning of a game with the bases loaded trailing by one run? Seriously, I’m asking, because I have no fucking clue.
Santos is a journeyman minor leaguer with a career .651 OPS. Yes, he hit a grand slam the other day and that was nice, but even a blind horse finds water sometimes. He’s 28 years old and it is pretty clear that by the standard of professional baseball, he is an awful hitter. Castro, on the other hand has a career .723 OPS in the MAJOR LEAGUES. That’s nothing special, but still significantly better. He also had two hits on the day, which means you can’t argue that you are going with the guy that was swinging the hot bat.
Apparently, when asked, Manuel said something about Santos’ short swing being better suited to face the hard-throwing Matt Lindstrom (the same Matt Lindstrom, mind you, that Omar Minaya once gave away in a trade, but that’s another story). Is he kidding? If his swing was short and sweet, then how come he slugged a robust .323 last year in Triple-A. Oh, and by the way, earlier in the game Castro gotten a hit off Josh Johnson, who was pumping in fastballs at 98 mph.
This decision flies in the face of logic. And as my college friends can tell you, logic is my specialty. If you ask them, it pretty much defines me. My favorite part of watching a baseball game is trying to figure out the best strategy to maximize the chances of success (yes, I’m a nerd). Typically, a manager’s decision is pretty easy. But sometimes, particularly late in games, it can get complex. This, however, was not one of those times. The best part was that Santos was down in the bullpen when it happened, so it took like three minutes between batters for someone to go get him. Which can only mean that he thought Manuel crazy too. And in addition to being a horseshit strategic move, what does it say to Castro? When you’re getting pinch-hit for by Omir freaking Santos, it’s pretty freaking clear your manager has no faith in you.
If the average person made a decision that bad in their job, it’s likely they would be fired. That’s how idiotic it was. I now have absolutely no faith in Manuel’s ability to make the right decision, which only further reduces my faith in this team.
I realize that I’m projecting my frustration with the Mets (and Swine Flu!) to some degree, but holy shit that was stupid. (End rant.)
Jerry Manuel is not the guy who can’t seem to drive in get a runner in from third with less than two outs. That’s David Wright. He is also not the guy who can’t seem to throw a freaking strike. That’s Ollie Perez. He is also not the big-name reliever who was brought in to protect one-run leads in the eighth inning, only to blow the first big spot he was put into. That’s J.J. Putz. So yes, Manuel is far from the only person to blame for the Mets malaise. What he is, however, is an idiot.
I hate to be harsh, but how else do you explain pinch-hitting Omir Santos for Ramon Castro in the ninth inning of a game with the bases loaded trailing by one run? Seriously, I’m asking, because I have no fucking clue.
Santos is a journeyman minor leaguer with a career .651 OPS. Yes, he hit a grand slam the other day and that was nice, but even a blind horse finds water sometimes. He’s 28 years old and it is pretty clear that by the standard of professional baseball, he is an awful hitter. Castro, on the other hand has a career .723 OPS in the MAJOR LEAGUES. That’s nothing special, but still significantly better. He also had two hits on the day, which means you can’t argue that you are going with the guy that was swinging the hot bat.
Apparently, when asked, Manuel said something about Santos’ short swing being better suited to face the hard-throwing Matt Lindstrom (the same Matt Lindstrom, mind you, that Omar Minaya once gave away in a trade, but that’s another story). Is he kidding? If his swing was short and sweet, then how come he slugged a robust .323 last year in Triple-A. Oh, and by the way, earlier in the game Castro gotten a hit off Josh Johnson, who was pumping in fastballs at 98 mph.
This decision flies in the face of logic. And as my college friends can tell you, logic is my specialty. If you ask them, it pretty much defines me. My favorite part of watching a baseball game is trying to figure out the best strategy to maximize the chances of success (yes, I’m a nerd). Typically, a manager’s decision is pretty easy. But sometimes, particularly late in games, it can get complex. This, however, was not one of those times. The best part was that Santos was down in the bullpen when it happened, so it took like three minutes between batters for someone to go get him. Which can only mean that he thought Manuel crazy too. And in addition to being a horseshit strategic move, what does it say to Castro? When you’re getting pinch-hit for by Omir freaking Santos, it’s pretty freaking clear your manager has no faith in you.
If the average person made a decision that bad in their job, it’s likely they would be fired. That’s how idiotic it was. I now have absolutely no faith in Manuel’s ability to make the right decision, which only further reduces my faith in this team.
I realize that I’m projecting my frustration with the Mets (and Swine Flu!) to some degree, but holy shit that was stupid. (End rant.)
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Natalie Portman Should Sue
I’ve been to my fair share of concerts in my life. And like most people, I typically try and avoid the opening act. That’s not always a smart move because I miss out on a good band I’ve never heard of, but it’s typically the right thing to do. Some opening acts eventually become headliners, but most opening acts are opening acts for a reason. I was reminded of this on Monday night when I went to Roseland to see Lily Allen (insert joke about my girly music taste here), and the opening act was some band called Natalie Portman’s Shaved Head.
As per usual, I called the venue to see what the set times were. This allows me to head in about halfway through the opener’s set, while making sure I don’t miss the headliner. Unfortunately, NPSH started late, and I had to endure most of their set. To quote Homer Simpson, “I don’t want to say they sucked . . . but they were the suckiest bunch of sucks who ever did suck.”
I’m typically pretty tolerant when it comes to music. And while I don’t completely agree with my friend Dan Squadron who says, “I like every band’s two best songs,” I feel like any band good enough to get a gig at Roseland has at least one good song. Apparently not.
At one point there was a break in the set, and I thought NPSH might be done. They were actually just switching singers, allowing a female member of the band to take the mic. I was hopeful that this might be where things picked up, but instead they broke into a song in which the chorus was her screaming, “do you like my ponytail? My sideways ponytail!” Don’t believe me? See for yourself.
They followed that up with a song about facial hair. At least that one was sung by a dude. I get that this group is trying to be silly. Even if their name doesn’t get this across, their music certainly does. The problem is that it’s just bad music. It’s like listening to Girl Talk, if Girl Talk used only bad songs and made no effort to blend them. Truly cacophonous.
As for Lily Allen, she was excellent. I’m not a huge fan, but I enjoy her stuff. My sister was getting tickets, so I told her to get two more for my girlfriend and me. Besides sounding really good live, Allen is also quite funny. “Cheeky,” if you will. Towards the end of her set, Allen said, “alright, this is my last song. Well, it’s not actually my last song, but I have to pretend like it is. You know the drill.” I’ve always thought the whole encore thing was always a little silly. I’d prefer to live in a world in which encores were not customary, but only given on special occasions when the crowd truly demanded it. The way it’s done now is a charade, and props to Lily Allen for acknowledging it.
As per usual, I called the venue to see what the set times were. This allows me to head in about halfway through the opener’s set, while making sure I don’t miss the headliner. Unfortunately, NPSH started late, and I had to endure most of their set. To quote Homer Simpson, “I don’t want to say they sucked . . . but they were the suckiest bunch of sucks who ever did suck.”
I’m typically pretty tolerant when it comes to music. And while I don’t completely agree with my friend Dan Squadron who says, “I like every band’s two best songs,” I feel like any band good enough to get a gig at Roseland has at least one good song. Apparently not.
At one point there was a break in the set, and I thought NPSH might be done. They were actually just switching singers, allowing a female member of the band to take the mic. I was hopeful that this might be where things picked up, but instead they broke into a song in which the chorus was her screaming, “do you like my ponytail? My sideways ponytail!” Don’t believe me? See for yourself.
They followed that up with a song about facial hair. At least that one was sung by a dude. I get that this group is trying to be silly. Even if their name doesn’t get this across, their music certainly does. The problem is that it’s just bad music. It’s like listening to Girl Talk, if Girl Talk used only bad songs and made no effort to blend them. Truly cacophonous.
As for Lily Allen, she was excellent. I’m not a huge fan, but I enjoy her stuff. My sister was getting tickets, so I told her to get two more for my girlfriend and me. Besides sounding really good live, Allen is also quite funny. “Cheeky,” if you will. Towards the end of her set, Allen said, “alright, this is my last song. Well, it’s not actually my last song, but I have to pretend like it is. You know the drill.” I’ve always thought the whole encore thing was always a little silly. I’d prefer to live in a world in which encores were not customary, but only given on special occasions when the crowd truly demanded it. The way it’s done now is a charade, and props to Lily Allen for acknowledging it.
Friday, April 17, 2009
The Next Big Thing
If you've been reading this blog, you know I love to throw out theories. And I have another theory that I want to share with you. Those of you who hang out with me regularly have probably heard this theory before, but there is nothing I can do about that. Here it is again.
This is a theory that first came to me when I was recently re-watching "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," and I became convinced of its merits upon seeing "I Love You, Man." The theory is as follows: Jason Segel is the next Tom Hanks.
I don't know why exactly this came to me, but ever since I thought of it I have become convinced that within the next five years Segel is going to be one of the biggest movie stars on the planet. And I think it's because of a certainly quality he shares with Hanks that I am not exactly sure I can explain. The best way I can put might be this: he's inclusive.
When you watch Segel in movies or on "How I Met Your Mother," you always feel like you're in on the joke. It's the same quality that Hanks had in "Big" and "Bachelor Party," and it makes them both feel very accessible. Hanks has lost a bit of this over the years as he has become a mega-star, but this was a huge part of his appeal in the 1980s. Part of my problem with a lot of the Judd Apatow mafia (Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, Bill Hader) is that I've started to get the sense that they think they are a little too cool for school. With Segel, however, that's not the case. He's just an unpretentious goofball who is extremely likeable in pretty much everything he does. And like Hanks, he's good looking, but not too good looking, and I think this works to his benefit. It makes him more accessible, in fact. And though Segel hasn't done much comedy in his career, I'm convinced he has the gravitas to pull off drama. We actually know he does because he did it on "Freaks And Geeks."
I mean, can't you just envision Segel's career arc from here? He's going to keep doing "How I Met Your Mother" for a couple of years, and he is set to co-write the next Muppet movie. That is obviously going to be a huge hit. I mean, after seeing bits of the Dracula musical in "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," how can it not be great? He'll probably get some supporting roles in Apatow-type films here and there, and then there will be the inevitable story in "Entertainment Weekly" in which Segel says, "you know, I'm thinking I might like to take on some more dramatic roles." Then he'll end up starring with Kate Winslet in some Charlie Kaufman flick about a couple who decides to roller skate across Canada. Segel will get nominated for an Oscar, and even though he won't win, it will be the first step towards his dramatic film career. And then 10 years after that we will all laugh ironically when "Knocked Up" is on cable and think, "remember when Jason Segel used to do comedy? Man, that was a long time ago!"
The problem with my Segel=Hanks theory is that it leaves me conflicted. On the one hand, I like being right, and it would give me great pleasure to still be e-mailing people this link in 10 years when Jason Segel is all the rage with the subject line "see, I told you so." On the other hand, I think there is a dearth of quality comedy (say that 10 times fast), and it would be sad if one of the finest comedic actors around stopped doing comedy. I still lament the fact that Hanks stopped doing comedy because he is so good at it. In case you've forgotten, watch any number of SNL's he's hosted to see what I'm talking about. So even if I win, we all lose. It's quite a conundrum.
This is a theory that first came to me when I was recently re-watching "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," and I became convinced of its merits upon seeing "I Love You, Man." The theory is as follows: Jason Segel is the next Tom Hanks.
I don't know why exactly this came to me, but ever since I thought of it I have become convinced that within the next five years Segel is going to be one of the biggest movie stars on the planet. And I think it's because of a certainly quality he shares with Hanks that I am not exactly sure I can explain. The best way I can put might be this: he's inclusive.
When you watch Segel in movies or on "How I Met Your Mother," you always feel like you're in on the joke. It's the same quality that Hanks had in "Big" and "Bachelor Party," and it makes them both feel very accessible. Hanks has lost a bit of this over the years as he has become a mega-star, but this was a huge part of his appeal in the 1980s. Part of my problem with a lot of the Judd Apatow mafia (Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, Bill Hader) is that I've started to get the sense that they think they are a little too cool for school. With Segel, however, that's not the case. He's just an unpretentious goofball who is extremely likeable in pretty much everything he does. And like Hanks, he's good looking, but not too good looking, and I think this works to his benefit. It makes him more accessible, in fact. And though Segel hasn't done much comedy in his career, I'm convinced he has the gravitas to pull off drama. We actually know he does because he did it on "Freaks And Geeks."
I mean, can't you just envision Segel's career arc from here? He's going to keep doing "How I Met Your Mother" for a couple of years, and he is set to co-write the next Muppet movie. That is obviously going to be a huge hit. I mean, after seeing bits of the Dracula musical in "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," how can it not be great? He'll probably get some supporting roles in Apatow-type films here and there, and then there will be the inevitable story in "Entertainment Weekly" in which Segel says, "you know, I'm thinking I might like to take on some more dramatic roles." Then he'll end up starring with Kate Winslet in some Charlie Kaufman flick about a couple who decides to roller skate across Canada. Segel will get nominated for an Oscar, and even though he won't win, it will be the first step towards his dramatic film career. And then 10 years after that we will all laugh ironically when "Knocked Up" is on cable and think, "remember when Jason Segel used to do comedy? Man, that was a long time ago!"
The problem with my Segel=Hanks theory is that it leaves me conflicted. On the one hand, I like being right, and it would give me great pleasure to still be e-mailing people this link in 10 years when Jason Segel is all the rage with the subject line "see, I told you so." On the other hand, I think there is a dearth of quality comedy (say that 10 times fast), and it would be sad if one of the finest comedic actors around stopped doing comedy. I still lament the fact that Hanks stopped doing comedy because he is so good at it. In case you've forgotten, watch any number of SNL's he's hosted to see what I'm talking about. So even if I win, we all lose. It's quite a conundrum.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Say It Ain't So
I was browsing through Facebook today, and I noticed that a couple of my friends had taken the “what baseball player are you quiz?” By rule, I typically never take these kinds of quizzes because, let’s face it, they’re really stupid. But this one was, for obvious reasons, right up my alley. Plus, one of my friends got Gary Pettis as the result, and the other got Chet Lemon, and that just made it seem more fun.
As an aside, I’m pretty sure every baseball fan thinks Chet Lemon is pretty cool because of his name. And one of the more amusing moments of my journalism career was interviewing Chet, who now runs an elite baseball travel team. They’re called Chet Lemon’s Juice. No joke.
So yeah, I went ahead and took the freaking quiz, which were mostly questions not about baseball. They were more about movie preferences, style of dress, and political leanings. After answering the questions (I think there were 12), I anxiously awaited the results. Wait for it . . .
Jimmy Rollins.
Yes, that Jimmy Rollins. Me, Mr. Mets Fans. The guy who has Baseball America covers with Kevin Mitchell, Jose Reyes and Tim Teufel adorning his walls. The guy who was watched “1986 Mets: A Year To Remember” roughly 900 times. But according to this fucking Facebook quiz, I’m Jimmy Rollins, the Mets No. 1 nemesis. My world is coming apart.
I mean, I guess there are worse players to be. If I could be a ballplayer, I would want to be a multi-dimensional up-the-middle player. But why couldn’t I be Carlos Beltran? In fact, I said I wanted to be an outfielder on the freaking quiz! If I say outfield, how do I end up as a shortstop? This shit is rigged. Furthermore, how come all three results I am aware of ended up with a black guy as their answer? This wasn’t the “what black baseball player are you quiz?” Or maybe it was. Nope, just checked, it wasn’t. And while I checked, I noticed another Facebook friend had taken the quiz, and he got Steve Jeltz, another black player, as his result. So maybe it really is the “what black ballplayer are you” quiz. This whole thing makes it even more unlikely I will ever do one of these Facebook quizzes again. Even so, I’m still Jimmy Rollins. I would have even preferred Marlon Anderson.
As an aside, I’m pretty sure every baseball fan thinks Chet Lemon is pretty cool because of his name. And one of the more amusing moments of my journalism career was interviewing Chet, who now runs an elite baseball travel team. They’re called Chet Lemon’s Juice. No joke.
So yeah, I went ahead and took the freaking quiz, which were mostly questions not about baseball. They were more about movie preferences, style of dress, and political leanings. After answering the questions (I think there were 12), I anxiously awaited the results. Wait for it . . .
Jimmy Rollins.
Yes, that Jimmy Rollins. Me, Mr. Mets Fans. The guy who has Baseball America covers with Kevin Mitchell, Jose Reyes and Tim Teufel adorning his walls. The guy who was watched “1986 Mets: A Year To Remember” roughly 900 times. But according to this fucking Facebook quiz, I’m Jimmy Rollins, the Mets No. 1 nemesis. My world is coming apart.
I mean, I guess there are worse players to be. If I could be a ballplayer, I would want to be a multi-dimensional up-the-middle player. But why couldn’t I be Carlos Beltran? In fact, I said I wanted to be an outfielder on the freaking quiz! If I say outfield, how do I end up as a shortstop? This shit is rigged. Furthermore, how come all three results I am aware of ended up with a black guy as their answer? This wasn’t the “what black baseball player are you quiz?” Or maybe it was. Nope, just checked, it wasn’t. And while I checked, I noticed another Facebook friend had taken the quiz, and he got Steve Jeltz, another black player, as his result. So maybe it really is the “what black ballplayer are you” quiz. This whole thing makes it even more unlikely I will ever do one of these Facebook quizzes again. Even so, I’m still Jimmy Rollins. I would have even preferred Marlon Anderson.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Most Sheffinently
It’s been a while since I did a post about the Mets, but this Gary Sheffield singing has proven to be quite divisive and I wanted to weigh because while I believe this is a pretty sharp move, I get the sense most people think this a bad idea.
Here’s hoping I can get Mets fans to step back off the proverbial ledge with this list of reasons explaining why this is a good idea.
1) Sheffield is much, much better than Marlon Anderson: Here’s the thing about Anderson, he seems like a great guy. In fact, I’m almost sure he is. The problem is that he is no longer a good baseball player. I'm not sure he ever was. The 35-year-old has a .265/.314/.391 career line, and he hit .210/.255/.275 last year in 151 at-bats. And yes, the Mets were entering the season with the plan being him as their top pinch-hitter. Sheffield hit .225/.326/.400 last year, and just .237 on balls in play. That's incredibly low. And coupled with the fact that he is coming to a weaker league, there is reason to believe he will end up looking a lot better than his 2008 line suggests. If you replace Anderson with Sheffield on the bench, that's an improvement. I recognize that Sheff's defense is brutal, but it's not like Anderson has any defensive value. Last year he played 25 games in left, six at first and one at second. He's a utilityman without any utility. At least Sheff is a threat to drive the ball. Marlon is a threat to drive me absolutely insane if I have to continually watch him ground meekly to first like he did against the Reds in the opener.
2) The Mets lean left, and not in a New York Times sort of way: The Mets currently employ lefthanded hitters at first base (Carlos Delgado), left field (Dan Murphy) and right field (Ryan Church). All of these guys are either mediocre (Delgado), unproven (Murphy) or bad (Church) against lefthanded pitching. Furthermore, they have a number of bench bats (Anderson, Jeremy Reed and Alex Cora) who also hit lefty. Bringing in Sheffield gives them a much more balanced bench, and allows them to use him in tandem with Fernando Tatis to mix and match in the outfield corners and at first. In the National League, this gives them a lot of flexibility.
3) Murphy might not be all that: Mets fans are all fired up about Murphy, but I think we should still be a little skeptical. He clearly has a very patient approach at the plate, but it's unclear if there is more to him than that. There is a good chance he hits roughly .280/.360/.400 for his career, and that's not bad. However, you'd typically like more from your leftfielder than that. I was talking to my friend Joe Sheehan of Baseball Prospectus, and he thinks Murphy is going to be the next Frank Catalanatto. I think that's fair. Now if Murphy can replicate Catalanatto's 2001 season a few times (.330/.391/.490), I know I'd be thrilled. Somehow, I think Mets fans are expecting a lot more than that and could be set up for a big disappointment. If Murphy fails, Sheffield gives them a lottery ticket, and I wouldn't be surprised if he has a dead cat bounce in him. And even if he slightly improves on his 2008 performance, there is a decent chance he puts up a better line than Murphy, Church and Tatis. Because of his defense, you don't want Sheff to play him everyday. But if he turns out to be the best hitter of that group of corner guys (which shouldn't surprise anyone), you need to find a way to get him some ABs.
4) He's basically free: Sheffield is getting paid $400,000. That is nothing by MLB standards. If it turns out he is done, or is being such a pain in the ass that he is no longer worth keeping around, you let him go. The only prospect who he could be blocking is Nick Evans, but I think it's smart for the Mets to let Evans play in Triple-A for a while to see if he can improve against righthanded pitching. He's probably just going to be a platoon player, but they might as well see if he can be anything more before making him strictly a platoon player at the age of 23. It's unlikely, but might as well give him a chance to enhance his value while seeing if Sheff can have one more season in which he slugs above .450. If he does, he's the Mets' best bat off of the bench.
Disclaimer: My belief that this is a good move is predicated on the Mets waiving Anderson when they activate Livan Hernandez to be their fifth starter. If, for some ungodly reason, they keep Anderson and demote Jeremy Reed, this becomes a questionable (and possibly bad) move.
Here’s hoping I can get Mets fans to step back off the proverbial ledge with this list of reasons explaining why this is a good idea.
1) Sheffield is much, much better than Marlon Anderson: Here’s the thing about Anderson, he seems like a great guy. In fact, I’m almost sure he is. The problem is that he is no longer a good baseball player. I'm not sure he ever was. The 35-year-old has a .265/.314/.391 career line, and he hit .210/.255/.275 last year in 151 at-bats. And yes, the Mets were entering the season with the plan being him as their top pinch-hitter. Sheffield hit .225/.326/.400 last year, and just .237 on balls in play. That's incredibly low. And coupled with the fact that he is coming to a weaker league, there is reason to believe he will end up looking a lot better than his 2008 line suggests. If you replace Anderson with Sheffield on the bench, that's an improvement. I recognize that Sheff's defense is brutal, but it's not like Anderson has any defensive value. Last year he played 25 games in left, six at first and one at second. He's a utilityman without any utility. At least Sheff is a threat to drive the ball. Marlon is a threat to drive me absolutely insane if I have to continually watch him ground meekly to first like he did against the Reds in the opener.
2) The Mets lean left, and not in a New York Times sort of way: The Mets currently employ lefthanded hitters at first base (Carlos Delgado), left field (Dan Murphy) and right field (Ryan Church). All of these guys are either mediocre (Delgado), unproven (Murphy) or bad (Church) against lefthanded pitching. Furthermore, they have a number of bench bats (Anderson, Jeremy Reed and Alex Cora) who also hit lefty. Bringing in Sheffield gives them a much more balanced bench, and allows them to use him in tandem with Fernando Tatis to mix and match in the outfield corners and at first. In the National League, this gives them a lot of flexibility.
3) Murphy might not be all that: Mets fans are all fired up about Murphy, but I think we should still be a little skeptical. He clearly has a very patient approach at the plate, but it's unclear if there is more to him than that. There is a good chance he hits roughly .280/.360/.400 for his career, and that's not bad. However, you'd typically like more from your leftfielder than that. I was talking to my friend Joe Sheehan of Baseball Prospectus, and he thinks Murphy is going to be the next Frank Catalanatto. I think that's fair. Now if Murphy can replicate Catalanatto's 2001 season a few times (.330/.391/.490), I know I'd be thrilled. Somehow, I think Mets fans are expecting a lot more than that and could be set up for a big disappointment. If Murphy fails, Sheffield gives them a lottery ticket, and I wouldn't be surprised if he has a dead cat bounce in him. And even if he slightly improves on his 2008 performance, there is a decent chance he puts up a better line than Murphy, Church and Tatis. Because of his defense, you don't want Sheff to play him everyday. But if he turns out to be the best hitter of that group of corner guys (which shouldn't surprise anyone), you need to find a way to get him some ABs.
4) He's basically free: Sheffield is getting paid $400,000. That is nothing by MLB standards. If it turns out he is done, or is being such a pain in the ass that he is no longer worth keeping around, you let him go. The only prospect who he could be blocking is Nick Evans, but I think it's smart for the Mets to let Evans play in Triple-A for a while to see if he can improve against righthanded pitching. He's probably just going to be a platoon player, but they might as well see if he can be anything more before making him strictly a platoon player at the age of 23. It's unlikely, but might as well give him a chance to enhance his value while seeing if Sheff can have one more season in which he slugs above .450. If he does, he's the Mets' best bat off of the bench.
Disclaimer: My belief that this is a good move is predicated on the Mets waiving Anderson when they activate Livan Hernandez to be their fifth starter. If, for some ungodly reason, they keep Anderson and demote Jeremy Reed, this becomes a questionable (and possibly bad) move.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Five Alive
I was hanging out with a group of friends recently when “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac came on. As I mentioned in a previous post, I love that song. Maybe it was the courage that comes with a few Bud Lights, but I blurted out a pet theory of mine that I had previously been too embarrassed to admit.
“You know,” I said. “You can put Fleetwood Mac’s five best songs up against pretty much any band or artist’s five best songs.”
(Pause for mocking.)
Much to my surprise/relief, no one made fun of this statement. In fact, one of my friends said, “I used to agree with that until I got sick of ‘Rumours.’ ” Anyway, this all sparked a debate about which bands could meet the standard of, “their five best songs could stand up against anyone else’s five best.”
Somewhat surprisingly, the band that was most hotly debated was The Beatles. The argument against them was that even though The Beatles are the most influential band ever, they don’t have five songs that stand out. Those in favor said that they do, it’s just that it’s hard to stand out when you have dozens of great songs. This argument reminded me of those that surround baseball’s Hall of Fame. For some players, like Eddie Murray, their case revolves around career value. For others, like Jim Rice, it’s based on peak value.
What makes The Beatles special is that they have both the necessary career value and peak value. To me, they’re the musical equivalent of Barry Bonds. Both The Beatles and Bonds were instant superstars who had incredible longevity. But let’s face it, neither did their best work until they discovered drugs.
Fleetwood Mac is sort of a tricky case, in that many people think they have career value, but in my mind they are all about peak. You can put “Everywhere,” “Say You Love Me,” “Gypsy,” “Landslide” and “Rhiannon,” up with anyone else’s five best songs, but the rest of their repertoire is kind of crappy. In fact, when Lindsey Buckingham is singing (as opposed to Stevie Nicks or Christine McVie), this is a pretty mediocre band. In thinking about it, I’d say Ichiro is the baseball player most comparable to Fleetwood Mac. When he’s hitting .340 and stealing 40 bases, he’s an elite player. But in most seasons, he’s not nearly as good as people think he is. Like Ichiro, Fleetwood Mac is occassionally brilliant, but not nearly as good as their airplay suggests.
The other band that stirred quite a debate was Guns N’ Roses, though there ended up being a pretty strong consensus that they pass the “five best songs” test. The only question was what their five songs would be. My choices would be “Estranged,” “Mr. Brownstone,” “November Rain,” “Rocket Queen,” and “Yesterdays.” Their baseball equivalent is probably Sandy Koufax. Incredibly dominant for about five years, before falling off the face of the earth. The only difference is that Koufax didn’t attempt a comeback a decade later while trying to pitch with a bucket on his head.
“You know,” I said. “You can put Fleetwood Mac’s five best songs up against pretty much any band or artist’s five best songs.”
(Pause for mocking.)
Much to my surprise/relief, no one made fun of this statement. In fact, one of my friends said, “I used to agree with that until I got sick of ‘Rumours.’ ” Anyway, this all sparked a debate about which bands could meet the standard of, “their five best songs could stand up against anyone else’s five best.”
Somewhat surprisingly, the band that was most hotly debated was The Beatles. The argument against them was that even though The Beatles are the most influential band ever, they don’t have five songs that stand out. Those in favor said that they do, it’s just that it’s hard to stand out when you have dozens of great songs. This argument reminded me of those that surround baseball’s Hall of Fame. For some players, like Eddie Murray, their case revolves around career value. For others, like Jim Rice, it’s based on peak value.
What makes The Beatles special is that they have both the necessary career value and peak value. To me, they’re the musical equivalent of Barry Bonds. Both The Beatles and Bonds were instant superstars who had incredible longevity. But let’s face it, neither did their best work until they discovered drugs.
Fleetwood Mac is sort of a tricky case, in that many people think they have career value, but in my mind they are all about peak. You can put “Everywhere,” “Say You Love Me,” “Gypsy,” “Landslide” and “Rhiannon,” up with anyone else’s five best songs, but the rest of their repertoire is kind of crappy. In fact, when Lindsey Buckingham is singing (as opposed to Stevie Nicks or Christine McVie), this is a pretty mediocre band. In thinking about it, I’d say Ichiro is the baseball player most comparable to Fleetwood Mac. When he’s hitting .340 and stealing 40 bases, he’s an elite player. But in most seasons, he’s not nearly as good as people think he is. Like Ichiro, Fleetwood Mac is occassionally brilliant, but not nearly as good as their airplay suggests.
The other band that stirred quite a debate was Guns N’ Roses, though there ended up being a pretty strong consensus that they pass the “five best songs” test. The only question was what their five songs would be. My choices would be “Estranged,” “Mr. Brownstone,” “November Rain,” “Rocket Queen,” and “Yesterdays.” Their baseball equivalent is probably Sandy Koufax. Incredibly dominant for about five years, before falling off the face of the earth. The only difference is that Koufax didn’t attempt a comeback a decade later while trying to pitch with a bucket on his head.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
It's All In A Nickname
I don’t know when it happened, but at some point nicknames began to disappear in sports. It’s really a shame, because who doesn’t love a good nickname? As seriously as some of us tend to take sports from time to time, it’s really all about fun, and I think nicknames help remind us of that. Not only that, it can also create an aura around a great player. For example, Ervin “Magic” Johnson, Dominique “The Human Highlight Reel,” Wilkins, “Neon” Deion Sanders (aka Prime Time). The list goes on and on.
As a sports journalist, I’ve always had a desire to try and bring back nicknames, with the goal of at least trying to come up with at least one good one and make it stick. What makes it tricky is that it’s unclear why some nicknames stick, and others don’t. I remember my first week of college, there was a kid on my floor who got absolutely hammered, and he was stumbling down the hall clutching a bottle of Captain Morgan close to his chest. He sort of had this crazed look in his eyes, and both of his elbows were tightly pinched against his ribs. “Oh my God,” said my friend Sam. “Kyle looks like a T-Rex.” Much to Kyle’s chagrin, that name stuck. He was “T-Rex” from that day forward, and it was simply based on some random throwaway joke the first week of college. Kyle ended up leaving school after our sophomore year and I think I heard he joined the army. I hope it wasn’t because of the name.
So anyway, when I was working at Baseball America, I figured it was the perfect opportunity to bestow some nicknames. Since I was writing mostly about minor leaguers, I thought that if I got a good one, it might catch on before the kid hit the big leagues. And if so, I could help bring nicknames back the forefront. Also, when you’re constantly writing about guys in the low minors who have virtually no chance of making the big leagues, you sometimes have to get a little goofy to keep things fresh.
My first bid for a nickname came with an Indians righthander named Joe Ness, who I started referring to as “The Untouchable” in honor of Elliot Ness. It was a little bit of a stretch, but I was pretty proud of it. The only problem is that Ness hasn’t exactly lived up to the nickname. In fact, he’s been quite touchable, posting a 6.18 ERA last year at Double-A. So that one probably isn’t going to work.
The perfect storm of nickname potential came in 2006 when I was doing a regular notebook for the Midwest League. For those who don’t know, that’s low Class A, and is made up mostly of 19-to-21-year-olds. That season, Reds rightfielder Jay Bruce was going bananas while playing for the Dayton Dragons, and all the coaches and managers in the league were talking him up as a future all-star. Being the Bruce Springsteen fan that I am, I started referring to him as “The Boss” every chance I got. Frankly, I thought this was going to be my legacy as a sportswriter. This feeling was only enhanced when Bruce was called to the big leagues, and this blog posed the question of what his nickname should be. And as you can see in the comments section, the readers agreed that “The Boss” should be it. Yes, this isn’t exactly a quorum, but I’ll take what I can get. (Note: I did post a comment on this blog in support of “The Boss.” And yes, I'm a dork.)
Unfortunately, “The Boss” hasn't taken off quite the way I hoped, but check out this excerpt from a Q&A Bruce did last week with Yahoo! Sports.
DB: Is "Bruce Almighty" sticking as a nickname?
JB: Not with me. Not for me. I would never call myself "Bruce Almighty."
DB: But nicknames aren't necessarily up to us, the nicknamed.
JB: Meh, I don't know. The only thing I've really heard, in Cincinnati the people go, "Bruuuuuuuuuuce."
DB: What about, "The Boss"?
JB: I think that was very short-lived. I think Baseball America had something to do with that, but I don't think it ever stuck.
Oh, we'll see about that. And as it turns out, this isn’t the first time Bruce has been asked about the nickname in a Q&A. When Baseball America named him minor league player of the year in the fall of 2007, which is after I left for another job, former writer Chris Kline asked him about it.
BA: Is there a nickname you’ve been given? I ask because when Matt Meyers covered the Midwest League for us last year, he hung the nickname ‘The Boss,’ on you.
JB: Yeah, believe me, I saw that. And I heard about it and I still hear about it. When are you guys going to stop calling me that?
BA: It’s the ‘Bruce,’ dude. Springsteen. The Boss. Come on.
JB: See, I’m not that familiar with him.
BA: Now you’re showing your age a little--for the first time, really. ‘Born to Run’ for me is Springsteen’s masterpiece, but you probably know him better by ‘Born In The USA’ and I know for a fact you didn’t grow up playing in ballparks and never hearing ‘Glory Days.’
JB: Great song.
BA: See?
JB: I just didn’t understand where that came from. I listen to more rap music and some country than anything else.
Besides the fact we’ve learned that Bruce is a little naïve about music, it’s clear that the nickname at least had some traction in the minor league world. There is still hope for it! The dream is still alive! And I think we can all agree it is a perfect nickname for one of baseball’s best young players. I encourage all of you to do whatever you can to make it stick. Spread the word. Thank you, and good day.
As a sports journalist, I’ve always had a desire to try and bring back nicknames, with the goal of at least trying to come up with at least one good one and make it stick. What makes it tricky is that it’s unclear why some nicknames stick, and others don’t. I remember my first week of college, there was a kid on my floor who got absolutely hammered, and he was stumbling down the hall clutching a bottle of Captain Morgan close to his chest. He sort of had this crazed look in his eyes, and both of his elbows were tightly pinched against his ribs. “Oh my God,” said my friend Sam. “Kyle looks like a T-Rex.” Much to Kyle’s chagrin, that name stuck. He was “T-Rex” from that day forward, and it was simply based on some random throwaway joke the first week of college. Kyle ended up leaving school after our sophomore year and I think I heard he joined the army. I hope it wasn’t because of the name.
So anyway, when I was working at Baseball America, I figured it was the perfect opportunity to bestow some nicknames. Since I was writing mostly about minor leaguers, I thought that if I got a good one, it might catch on before the kid hit the big leagues. And if so, I could help bring nicknames back the forefront. Also, when you’re constantly writing about guys in the low minors who have virtually no chance of making the big leagues, you sometimes have to get a little goofy to keep things fresh.
My first bid for a nickname came with an Indians righthander named Joe Ness, who I started referring to as “The Untouchable” in honor of Elliot Ness. It was a little bit of a stretch, but I was pretty proud of it. The only problem is that Ness hasn’t exactly lived up to the nickname. In fact, he’s been quite touchable, posting a 6.18 ERA last year at Double-A. So that one probably isn’t going to work.
The perfect storm of nickname potential came in 2006 when I was doing a regular notebook for the Midwest League. For those who don’t know, that’s low Class A, and is made up mostly of 19-to-21-year-olds. That season, Reds rightfielder Jay Bruce was going bananas while playing for the Dayton Dragons, and all the coaches and managers in the league were talking him up as a future all-star. Being the Bruce Springsteen fan that I am, I started referring to him as “The Boss” every chance I got. Frankly, I thought this was going to be my legacy as a sportswriter. This feeling was only enhanced when Bruce was called to the big leagues, and this blog posed the question of what his nickname should be. And as you can see in the comments section, the readers agreed that “The Boss” should be it. Yes, this isn’t exactly a quorum, but I’ll take what I can get. (Note: I did post a comment on this blog in support of “The Boss.” And yes, I'm a dork.)
Unfortunately, “The Boss” hasn't taken off quite the way I hoped, but check out this excerpt from a Q&A Bruce did last week with Yahoo! Sports.
DB: Is "Bruce Almighty" sticking as a nickname?
JB: Not with me. Not for me. I would never call myself "Bruce Almighty."
DB: But nicknames aren't necessarily up to us, the nicknamed.
JB: Meh, I don't know. The only thing I've really heard, in Cincinnati the people go, "Bruuuuuuuuuuce."
DB: What about, "The Boss"?
JB: I think that was very short-lived. I think Baseball America had something to do with that, but I don't think it ever stuck.
Oh, we'll see about that. And as it turns out, this isn’t the first time Bruce has been asked about the nickname in a Q&A. When Baseball America named him minor league player of the year in the fall of 2007, which is after I left for another job, former writer Chris Kline asked him about it.
BA: Is there a nickname you’ve been given? I ask because when Matt Meyers covered the Midwest League for us last year, he hung the nickname ‘The Boss,’ on you.
JB: Yeah, believe me, I saw that. And I heard about it and I still hear about it. When are you guys going to stop calling me that?
BA: It’s the ‘Bruce,’ dude. Springsteen. The Boss. Come on.
JB: See, I’m not that familiar with him.
BA: Now you’re showing your age a little--for the first time, really. ‘Born to Run’ for me is Springsteen’s masterpiece, but you probably know him better by ‘Born In The USA’ and I know for a fact you didn’t grow up playing in ballparks and never hearing ‘Glory Days.’
JB: Great song.
BA: See?
JB: I just didn’t understand where that came from. I listen to more rap music and some country than anything else.
Besides the fact we’ve learned that Bruce is a little naïve about music, it’s clear that the nickname at least had some traction in the minor league world. There is still hope for it! The dream is still alive! And I think we can all agree it is a perfect nickname for one of baseball’s best young players. I encourage all of you to do whatever you can to make it stick. Spread the word. Thank you, and good day.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Popping In
I apologize for the lag between posts here, but there is a good reason for it. The magazine’s baseball preview was put to bed last Friday, and my previous month has been extremely hectic. And because I was spending up to ten hours a day staring at words on a computer screen, I haven’t felt compelled to blog in my spare time. Now that the preview is finished, I hope to be back here sharing my thoughts far more frequently.
As an aside, you should all pick up ESPN The Magazine’s MLB preview. Not only does it have an interesting study of Manny Ramirez’s hitting approach (with a sidebar written by moi), but a great piece about the evolution of defensive analysis that features a sidebar by Nate Silver. Seriously, it's excellent stuff.
As you can tell, I’ve been thinking about baseball a lot lately, even more than usual. But in one of my spare moments, I checked out a YouTube video sent to me by my girlfriend, Margaret, that features a toddler dancing to Beyonce’s “Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It).” Besides being left with the thought that this video is a little creepy, it got me thinking about the song, and great pop songs in general.
I’ll admit it, that’s a good fucking song. And I say this despite the fact that it helps reinforce the aspect of American culture that seems to equate love with how much you spend on an engagement ring. That, however, is a rant for another time.
Anyway, “Single Ladies” has all the elements of a great pop song. The most important of these elements being a hook you can sing along to. Every time I hear that song, I’m singing that freaking hook to myself the next six hours. Without fail. I was reading a story in Rolling Stone about The-Dream (nope, not a type), who wrote "Single Ladies", as well as Mary J. Blige's "Just Fine," Mariah Carey's "Touch My Body," and Rihanna's "Umbrella." The story was about how he is trying to follow the Kanye West route by using his career as a producer as a jumping off point for his own singing/rapping career. With the ability to write songs like that, I don't see how he can fail. That's a pretty killer lineup of kick-ass pop songs over the past two years.
This all got me thinking about great pop songs. My musical tastes typically lean towards 1990s hip-hop and garage/Springteen-esque rock, but I love a good pop song. And the following is a random list of pop songs thatt I think might be underappreciated by the masses. These are all famous songs, mind you, but songs that I think are probably better than they are given credit for.
Mark Morrison (Return Of The Mack): This is on my short list of, “if I were a major league baseball player, this would be my walk-up music.” I can’t really understand a word he says other than “return of the mack,” but he’s got such a laid-back delivery, and the groove is so smooth, I just can’t get enough of it. Speaking of baseball pump-up music . . .
Bizarre Inc. (I'm Gonna Get You): This isn't really a pop song, but more of a "early 90s fake techno" song. However, it's freaking catchy. You're lying if you don't enjoy Angie Brown piping in with "why waste your time, you know you're gonna be mine." I had sort of forgotten about this song until Oliver Perez joined the Mets. Every time he warms up before a home game, this song is playing, and every time I've been in the Mets clubhouse while reporting a story, I've always wanted to ask him about this song, but I never have the nerve. My guess is that someone once played it before one of his starts and he pitched really well. And since baseball players are a superstitious bunch, he stuck with it. Either that, or he has a soft spot for corny 90s techno. If so, I like him a lot more.
Billy Ocean (Caribbean Queen): I just noticed something about this song. Listen to the opening few bars, and write before the first verse, you can hear Billy Ocean say, “she 's simply . . . awesome.” This means there had to have been be some sort of conversation in the studio that went something like this:
BILLY: You know what would be great?
PRODUCER: I’m listening . . .
BILLY: If right before the first verse starts, I whisper, “she's simply . . . awesome.” Wouldn’t that be cool?
PRODUCER: You’re right, that would be cool!
(Listen closely, it's about 12 seconds in)
Kelly Clarkson (Since U Been Gone): I know this song is huge, but I actually think it might be under-appreciated. It might be the best pop song of the past 20 years, with the possible exception of . . .
Mariah Carey (We Belong Together): This seems to get less play that a lot of other Mariah hits, but listen to the second verse and try and tell me that this isn’t a transcendent pop song. I’m waiting.
Erasue (A Little Respect): I was reintroduced to the greatness of this song when "Scrubs" built an episode around it. It might the association with one of my favorite TV shows that might me such a fan of this song, but I can now never get tired of this song.
I know what you're thinking. "Mariah? Kelly Clarkson? Erasure? This guy's music taste is half-gay, half-fourteen-year-old girl."
What of it?
As an aside, you should all pick up ESPN The Magazine’s MLB preview. Not only does it have an interesting study of Manny Ramirez’s hitting approach (with a sidebar written by moi), but a great piece about the evolution of defensive analysis that features a sidebar by Nate Silver. Seriously, it's excellent stuff.
As you can tell, I’ve been thinking about baseball a lot lately, even more than usual. But in one of my spare moments, I checked out a YouTube video sent to me by my girlfriend, Margaret, that features a toddler dancing to Beyonce’s “Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It).” Besides being left with the thought that this video is a little creepy, it got me thinking about the song, and great pop songs in general.
I’ll admit it, that’s a good fucking song. And I say this despite the fact that it helps reinforce the aspect of American culture that seems to equate love with how much you spend on an engagement ring. That, however, is a rant for another time.
Anyway, “Single Ladies” has all the elements of a great pop song. The most important of these elements being a hook you can sing along to. Every time I hear that song, I’m singing that freaking hook to myself the next six hours. Without fail. I was reading a story in Rolling Stone about The-Dream (nope, not a type), who wrote "Single Ladies", as well as Mary J. Blige's "Just Fine," Mariah Carey's "Touch My Body," and Rihanna's "Umbrella." The story was about how he is trying to follow the Kanye West route by using his career as a producer as a jumping off point for his own singing/rapping career. With the ability to write songs like that, I don't see how he can fail. That's a pretty killer lineup of kick-ass pop songs over the past two years.
This all got me thinking about great pop songs. My musical tastes typically lean towards 1990s hip-hop and garage/Springteen-esque rock, but I love a good pop song. And the following is a random list of pop songs thatt I think might be underappreciated by the masses. These are all famous songs, mind you, but songs that I think are probably better than they are given credit for.
Mark Morrison (Return Of The Mack): This is on my short list of, “if I were a major league baseball player, this would be my walk-up music.” I can’t really understand a word he says other than “return of the mack,” but he’s got such a laid-back delivery, and the groove is so smooth, I just can’t get enough of it. Speaking of baseball pump-up music . . .
Bizarre Inc. (I'm Gonna Get You): This isn't really a pop song, but more of a "early 90s fake techno" song. However, it's freaking catchy. You're lying if you don't enjoy Angie Brown piping in with "why waste your time, you know you're gonna be mine." I had sort of forgotten about this song until Oliver Perez joined the Mets. Every time he warms up before a home game, this song is playing, and every time I've been in the Mets clubhouse while reporting a story, I've always wanted to ask him about this song, but I never have the nerve. My guess is that someone once played it before one of his starts and he pitched really well. And since baseball players are a superstitious bunch, he stuck with it. Either that, or he has a soft spot for corny 90s techno. If so, I like him a lot more.
Billy Ocean (Caribbean Queen): I just noticed something about this song. Listen to the opening few bars, and write before the first verse, you can hear Billy Ocean say, “she 's simply . . . awesome.” This means there had to have been be some sort of conversation in the studio that went something like this:
BILLY: You know what would be great?
PRODUCER: I’m listening . . .
BILLY: If right before the first verse starts, I whisper, “she's simply . . . awesome.” Wouldn’t that be cool?
PRODUCER: You’re right, that would be cool!
(Listen closely, it's about 12 seconds in)
Kelly Clarkson (Since U Been Gone): I know this song is huge, but I actually think it might be under-appreciated. It might be the best pop song of the past 20 years, with the possible exception of . . .
Mariah Carey (We Belong Together): This seems to get less play that a lot of other Mariah hits, but listen to the second verse and try and tell me that this isn’t a transcendent pop song. I’m waiting.
Erasue (A Little Respect): I was reintroduced to the greatness of this song when "Scrubs" built an episode around it. It might the association with one of my favorite TV shows that might me such a fan of this song, but I can now never get tired of this song.
I know what you're thinking. "Mariah? Kelly Clarkson? Erasure? This guy's music taste is half-gay, half-fourteen-year-old girl."
What of it?
Thursday, March 5, 2009
DQS: Don't Question Silver
There was an excellent column on ESPN.com Insider last week written by Nate Silver that discussed A-Rod's chances of breaking the home run record. Subscription is required to read the story—by the way, you should subscribe because it will help me keep my job—but here's the gist: After comparing A-Rod to the 20 most similar players to him in history, Silver concluded that there is a 30 percent chance he will break Barry Bonds' home run record.
This conclusion was met with much skepticism in the comments section. As dozens of Yankees fans wrote some variation of, "who is the nerd with the numbers?A-Rod is clearly going to DESTROY Bonds record. This guys knows nothing. A-Rod RUUUULEZ! YANKEES RULE!!!!! COUNT THE RINGS BITCHES!!!!!!"
OK, that might be a tiny exaggeration, but there was definitely healthy skepticism of the results. As an aside, I've always found it interesting how Yankees fans will hate A-Rod, but then defend him for shit like this. Anyway, many of the people commenting were accusing Silver of personal bias. Now I barely know Silver, but I am pretty sure that his numbers are without bias. That would undermine the point of everything he does. He was simply accounting for the fact that players tend to, you know, decline as they get into their mid-30s, and that they experience random ailments. And whaddya know, looks like A-Rod is going to miss ten weeks (maybe more) because of a hip injury that is apparently a cyst or a torn labrum. This is exactly the kind of thing Silver's study were accounting for.
This doesn't mean that A-Rod won't break the record, but this injury comes at a perfect time as far as illustrating why historical comparisons, like Silver's, are valuable. I distinctly remember a time about 10 years ago when the world was convinced that Ken Griffey would break what was then Hank Aaron's home run record. As we know now, Griffey experienced all sorts of hamstring problems, and while he is still one of the top five home run hitters ever, he is not going to break the record. Take a look at the list of the best home run hitters through their age 30 season, and you'll get a better sense that 30s aren't kind to slugger. (Age 30 season means they were 30 years old on June 30.)
1. Alex Rodriguez 464
2. Ken Griffey Jr. 438
3. Jimmy Foxx 429
4. Mickey Mantle 404
5. Eddie Matthews 399
6. Frank Robinson 373
7. Mel Ott 369
8. Andruw Jones 368
9. Hank Aaron 366
10. Juan Gonzalez 362
What might be most amazing about this list is that Bonds isn't on it. In fact, he is 25th on the list. He is, not surprisingly, first on the list for home runs from age 30 on, with 503. Now before you go blaming steroids, keep in mind that Babe Ruth is second on that list, with 430. Yes, it appears that Bonds was on something, but it's also true that it's possible to be prodigious home run hitter after the age of 30 without the aid of HGH.
But other than Bonds' absence, you'll notice a lot of guys who burned out for a variety of reasons. There's Griffey (bum hamstring), Jones (got fat) and Mantle (lots of booze). Of course there is Aaron, who is an outlier, as is Bonds. And yes, maybe A-Rod will prove to be an outlier as well who hits home runs well into his 40s. But the point is that we shouldn't ignore history, and that lots of people who comment on blogs are idiots. Except, of course, for the nice people who comment on this blog.
This conclusion was met with much skepticism in the comments section. As dozens of Yankees fans wrote some variation of, "who is the nerd with the numbers?A-Rod is clearly going to DESTROY Bonds record. This guys knows nothing. A-Rod RUUUULEZ! YANKEES RULE!!!!! COUNT THE RINGS BITCHES!!!!!!"
OK, that might be a tiny exaggeration, but there was definitely healthy skepticism of the results. As an aside, I've always found it interesting how Yankees fans will hate A-Rod, but then defend him for shit like this. Anyway, many of the people commenting were accusing Silver of personal bias. Now I barely know Silver, but I am pretty sure that his numbers are without bias. That would undermine the point of everything he does. He was simply accounting for the fact that players tend to, you know, decline as they get into their mid-30s, and that they experience random ailments. And whaddya know, looks like A-Rod is going to miss ten weeks (maybe more) because of a hip injury that is apparently a cyst or a torn labrum. This is exactly the kind of thing Silver's study were accounting for.
This doesn't mean that A-Rod won't break the record, but this injury comes at a perfect time as far as illustrating why historical comparisons, like Silver's, are valuable. I distinctly remember a time about 10 years ago when the world was convinced that Ken Griffey would break what was then Hank Aaron's home run record. As we know now, Griffey experienced all sorts of hamstring problems, and while he is still one of the top five home run hitters ever, he is not going to break the record. Take a look at the list of the best home run hitters through their age 30 season, and you'll get a better sense that 30s aren't kind to slugger. (Age 30 season means they were 30 years old on June 30.)
1. Alex Rodriguez 464
2. Ken Griffey Jr. 438
3. Jimmy Foxx 429
4. Mickey Mantle 404
5. Eddie Matthews 399
6. Frank Robinson 373
7. Mel Ott 369
8. Andruw Jones 368
9. Hank Aaron 366
10. Juan Gonzalez 362
What might be most amazing about this list is that Bonds isn't on it. In fact, he is 25th on the list. He is, not surprisingly, first on the list for home runs from age 30 on, with 503. Now before you go blaming steroids, keep in mind that Babe Ruth is second on that list, with 430. Yes, it appears that Bonds was on something, but it's also true that it's possible to be prodigious home run hitter after the age of 30 without the aid of HGH.
But other than Bonds' absence, you'll notice a lot of guys who burned out for a variety of reasons. There's Griffey (bum hamstring), Jones (got fat) and Mantle (lots of booze). Of course there is Aaron, who is an outlier, as is Bonds. And yes, maybe A-Rod will prove to be an outlier as well who hits home runs well into his 40s. But the point is that we shouldn't ignore history, and that lots of people who comment on blogs are idiots. Except, of course, for the nice people who comment on this blog.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Not-So-Top Chef
I just got to work, and I probably shouldn't be doing this, but it's a slow day, and I figured I could bang out a couple of hundred words on the finale of "Top Chef" because it was so infuriating.
***SPOILER ALERT--If you have yet to watch the finale of "Top Chef" and don't want to know who won, stop reading***
Let me preface this by saying that I am not a big fan of Hosea. Seriously, he was so whiny when it came to Stefan, and I got so tired of him saying, "you know, I really like my food with a lot of flavor. Flavor is my thing." No shit, you're a chef. Flavor is the fucking point.
Hosea started the season strong, but he sort of slipped through the cracks over the final six episodes or so, and I lost respect for him when he, the self-identified fish expert, botched the fish challenge. If I recall correctly, the only reason he wasn't eliminated that day is because it was a team challenge, and his team won (no thanks to him). To me, Hosea is one of those guys who on the surface appears to be a really nice guy. But as the season progressed, it seemed more and more like he was one of those guys who looks like he is really chill, but is actually a self-involved douche. Stefan is clearly a douche, but there is no pretense there. He knows it, and he doesn't care if you know it too. And once it was obvious that Carla (who is clearly more likeable than both of the guys) was not going to win, I found myself rooting for Stefan.
But even though I don't like Hosea, he deserved to win last night based on the format. It's just that the format was stupid.
All I really learned about Hosea last night is that he is really good and randomly selecting knives and pieces of king cake, because it was those two events that led to his victory. Any "Top Chef" connoisseur knows that Richard is an amazing chef, and from what I saw he was a level above any of the chefs from this season. So when Hosea got first choice of sous chefs, it was obvious he was going to pick Richard and gain a huge advantage. And sure enough, the sous chefs played a major role as Casey, Carla's sous chef, cost her any shot at the title, though I realize Carla needs to take the blame for listening to all of Casey's dumb suggestions. Seriously Carla, what were you thinking? You had so much mojo going into the final episode, yet you let this former "Top Chef" runner-up talk you into going out of your comfort zone. As soon as she said, "well, I'm never done this technique before, but OK!" I knew it was going to be a disaster. And it was. If she had been even close, the judges would've given it to her on personality alone.
Anyway, in addition to getting lucky picking knives, Hosea also got first choice of appetizer ingredients after getting the piece of king cake with the plastic baby inside. This really made me angry. Why would you want two major elements of luck playing such a large role in the finale? In every other episode, there is a quickfire challenge that determines who will get the advantage in the main challenge, yet in the finale they did it entire based on luck of the draw. It was silly. They should have said, "Carla, since you had last choice of sous chefs, you get first choice of appetizers. Followed by Stefan, then Hosea." This, at least, would've evened out the randomness of the advantage gained.
So yeah, Hosea took his advantages and ran with them, and he deserved to win based on his performance last night. But frankly, I think Richard had a hell of a lot to do with it. If he had Casey as his sous chef (as opposed to Richard), and alligator as his appetizer (as opposed to red fish), I don't think he would've won. And if you think about it that way, Hosea doesn't seem like such a good choice. I'm just glad I won't have to hear about how Stefan is his nemesis anymore. Maybe he can finally get over his nauseating inferiority complex.
***SPOILER ALERT--If you have yet to watch the finale of "Top Chef" and don't want to know who won, stop reading***
Let me preface this by saying that I am not a big fan of Hosea. Seriously, he was so whiny when it came to Stefan, and I got so tired of him saying, "you know, I really like my food with a lot of flavor. Flavor is my thing." No shit, you're a chef. Flavor is the fucking point.
Hosea started the season strong, but he sort of slipped through the cracks over the final six episodes or so, and I lost respect for him when he, the self-identified fish expert, botched the fish challenge. If I recall correctly, the only reason he wasn't eliminated that day is because it was a team challenge, and his team won (no thanks to him). To me, Hosea is one of those guys who on the surface appears to be a really nice guy. But as the season progressed, it seemed more and more like he was one of those guys who looks like he is really chill, but is actually a self-involved douche. Stefan is clearly a douche, but there is no pretense there. He knows it, and he doesn't care if you know it too. And once it was obvious that Carla (who is clearly more likeable than both of the guys) was not going to win, I found myself rooting for Stefan.
But even though I don't like Hosea, he deserved to win last night based on the format. It's just that the format was stupid.
All I really learned about Hosea last night is that he is really good and randomly selecting knives and pieces of king cake, because it was those two events that led to his victory. Any "Top Chef" connoisseur knows that Richard is an amazing chef, and from what I saw he was a level above any of the chefs from this season. So when Hosea got first choice of sous chefs, it was obvious he was going to pick Richard and gain a huge advantage. And sure enough, the sous chefs played a major role as Casey, Carla's sous chef, cost her any shot at the title, though I realize Carla needs to take the blame for listening to all of Casey's dumb suggestions. Seriously Carla, what were you thinking? You had so much mojo going into the final episode, yet you let this former "Top Chef" runner-up talk you into going out of your comfort zone. As soon as she said, "well, I'm never done this technique before, but OK!" I knew it was going to be a disaster. And it was. If she had been even close, the judges would've given it to her on personality alone.
Anyway, in addition to getting lucky picking knives, Hosea also got first choice of appetizer ingredients after getting the piece of king cake with the plastic baby inside. This really made me angry. Why would you want two major elements of luck playing such a large role in the finale? In every other episode, there is a quickfire challenge that determines who will get the advantage in the main challenge, yet in the finale they did it entire based on luck of the draw. It was silly. They should have said, "Carla, since you had last choice of sous chefs, you get first choice of appetizers. Followed by Stefan, then Hosea." This, at least, would've evened out the randomness of the advantage gained.
So yeah, Hosea took his advantages and ran with them, and he deserved to win based on his performance last night. But frankly, I think Richard had a hell of a lot to do with it. If he had Casey as his sous chef (as opposed to Richard), and alligator as his appetizer (as opposed to red fish), I don't think he would've won. And if you think about it that way, Hosea doesn't seem like such a good choice. I'm just glad I won't have to hear about how Stefan is his nemesis anymore. Maybe he can finally get over his nauseating inferiority complex.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The List
As some of you may know, I’ve been writing regularly for ESPN Insider. I enjoy it mostly because it’s an outlet for my stat-geeky side. I bring this up for two reasons. 1) You should all subscribe to Insider, if only because you want me to continue to have a job. 2) My next piece is about the Royals, and my editor said something to me today to the effect of, “I bet you just can’t get enough of the Royals.” And I replied, “lay off, that’s like my fifth favorite team.” He then asked,” Fifth favorite team? At which point do you stop keeping track?”
Good question. And it got me thinking about how all 30 teams stack up for me. So, without further adieu, what follows is my own personal power rankings. These are not in order of best to worst, but rather favorite to least favorite. Sometimes these vary from year to year.
1. Mets—This one doesn’t need any explanation. I started paying attention to baseball in 1986 because my father was a Mets fan. They won the World Series, and I’ve been hooked ever since.
2. Twins—One of my best friends in college was a Twins fan, so that gave me my original affinity for them, and I’ve admired their ability to stay competitive with a small budget and a philosophy that runs counter to much of what I believe it takes to build a winning team. In fact, it may be proof that I have no idea what it takes to build a winning baseball team. Oh, and I loved Kent Hrbek when I was a kid for a reason I can’t explain.
3. Pirates—I always think baseball is more interesting when the original franchises are relevant. Plus, I have two friends who work for the team. And I like their uniforms.
4. A’s—Like the Twins, I admire small-market teams that can stay competitive. But unlike Minnesota, I like the way in which the A’s run their organization. Translation: I have a man-crush on Billy Beane.
5. Royals—See, I told you so! Great stadium, and I ranked their top 30 prospects for the 2007 Baseball America Prospect Handbook, so I feel a bond there.
6. Reds—See Pirates (Everything except for the friends who work for them).
7. Rays—Prior to 20005, I didn’t give a crap about them, but they’ve grown on me for two reasons. First, when I was living in North Carolina, I worked down the street from the where the Durham Bulls (their Triple-A affiliate) play, so I became quite familiar with their prospects. Second, they are the reason the Yankees didn’t make the playoffs last year.
8. Indians—This is mostly because of “Major League,” and also because I had an Indians cap from about 1995-1999 that I loved.
9. Mariners—Griffey was a lot of fun back in the day.
10. Diamondbacks—Ended the Yankees run of championships in 2001. Plus, Chris Young is the friendliest player I’ve ever interviewed.
11. Red Sox—Getting kind of sick of them, but the way they humiliated the Yankees in 2004 will never be forgotten. Yes, I realize a lot of these rankings are motivated by anti-Yankees sentiment. But when the Mets are out of it (which is what happens most Octobers), rooting against the Yankees is all I have. Sigh.
12. Tigers—Curtis Granderson is one of my favorite players. Possibly my favorite. That’ll be another list down the road.
13. Giants—My father was a Giants fan until they left New York, and he still has a soft spot for them. And to some extent, I do too. Plus, there was a short period in the late 1980s when Will Clark was my favorite player.
14. Brewers—I like beer.
15. Padres—Of all the stadiums I have ever been to, theirs is my favorite.
16. Rockies—After the Mets were humiliated by the Phillies in 2007, they immediately swept Philly. It took the edge off the pain just a little bit.
17. Nationals—The one team in their division the Mets can consistently beat.
18. Blue Jays—I used to think Kelly Gruber was cool. And Rance Mullniks is possibly the greatest name in baseball history.
19. Rangers—I’m pretty neutral on these guys, but they had to go somewhere.
20. White Sox—Ditto.
21. Orioles—Ditto.
22. Astros—Ditto, but they get docked because Mike Scott scuffed the ball in the 1986 NLCS.
23. Dodgers—As Fletch said, “I hate Tommy Lasorda.”
24. Cubs—A lot of their fans are whiny. We get it, it’s been 100 years.
25. Angels—Not a fan of the way their style of play because they stubbornly refuse to take pitches. Plus, the Rally Monkey is a travesty.
26. Marlins—Mets rival, always kind of obnoxious.
27. Cardinals—I don’t mean to say this in some sort of Patrick Ewing sort of way, but the Mets were the better team in 2006. Yes, I realize that the nature of baseball means that the inferior team will often win a seven-game series, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.
28. Braves—They tormented all Mets fan from 1998-2005.
29. Phillies—The new Braves.
30. Yankees—I realize this is irrational. My least-favorite team should be the Phillies or Braves, both direct rivals of my favorite team, but I just can’t help it. I simply hate the Yankees. And when the Braves played the Yankees in the World Series, I rooted for Atlanta. And if the Phillies faced the Yankees, I’d probably root for Philly.
A lot of people in the sports media will tell you that members of the sports media are not supposed to have favorites because it prevents objectivity, and I've always thought this was dumb. Being a passionate fan is what got me into this business in the first place. The day I stop being a fan is the day I stop enjoying my job.
Good question. And it got me thinking about how all 30 teams stack up for me. So, without further adieu, what follows is my own personal power rankings. These are not in order of best to worst, but rather favorite to least favorite. Sometimes these vary from year to year.
1. Mets—This one doesn’t need any explanation. I started paying attention to baseball in 1986 because my father was a Mets fan. They won the World Series, and I’ve been hooked ever since.
2. Twins—One of my best friends in college was a Twins fan, so that gave me my original affinity for them, and I’ve admired their ability to stay competitive with a small budget and a philosophy that runs counter to much of what I believe it takes to build a winning team. In fact, it may be proof that I have no idea what it takes to build a winning baseball team. Oh, and I loved Kent Hrbek when I was a kid for a reason I can’t explain.
3. Pirates—I always think baseball is more interesting when the original franchises are relevant. Plus, I have two friends who work for the team. And I like their uniforms.
4. A’s—Like the Twins, I admire small-market teams that can stay competitive. But unlike Minnesota, I like the way in which the A’s run their organization. Translation: I have a man-crush on Billy Beane.
5. Royals—See, I told you so! Great stadium, and I ranked their top 30 prospects for the 2007 Baseball America Prospect Handbook, so I feel a bond there.
6. Reds—See Pirates (Everything except for the friends who work for them).
7. Rays—Prior to 20005, I didn’t give a crap about them, but they’ve grown on me for two reasons. First, when I was living in North Carolina, I worked down the street from the where the Durham Bulls (their Triple-A affiliate) play, so I became quite familiar with their prospects. Second, they are the reason the Yankees didn’t make the playoffs last year.
8. Indians—This is mostly because of “Major League,” and also because I had an Indians cap from about 1995-1999 that I loved.
9. Mariners—Griffey was a lot of fun back in the day.
10. Diamondbacks—Ended the Yankees run of championships in 2001. Plus, Chris Young is the friendliest player I’ve ever interviewed.
11. Red Sox—Getting kind of sick of them, but the way they humiliated the Yankees in 2004 will never be forgotten. Yes, I realize a lot of these rankings are motivated by anti-Yankees sentiment. But when the Mets are out of it (which is what happens most Octobers), rooting against the Yankees is all I have. Sigh.
12. Tigers—Curtis Granderson is one of my favorite players. Possibly my favorite. That’ll be another list down the road.
13. Giants—My father was a Giants fan until they left New York, and he still has a soft spot for them. And to some extent, I do too. Plus, there was a short period in the late 1980s when Will Clark was my favorite player.
14. Brewers—I like beer.
15. Padres—Of all the stadiums I have ever been to, theirs is my favorite.
16. Rockies—After the Mets were humiliated by the Phillies in 2007, they immediately swept Philly. It took the edge off the pain just a little bit.
17. Nationals—The one team in their division the Mets can consistently beat.
18. Blue Jays—I used to think Kelly Gruber was cool. And Rance Mullniks is possibly the greatest name in baseball history.
19. Rangers—I’m pretty neutral on these guys, but they had to go somewhere.
20. White Sox—Ditto.
21. Orioles—Ditto.
22. Astros—Ditto, but they get docked because Mike Scott scuffed the ball in the 1986 NLCS.
23. Dodgers—As Fletch said, “I hate Tommy Lasorda.”
24. Cubs—A lot of their fans are whiny. We get it, it’s been 100 years.
25. Angels—Not a fan of the way their style of play because they stubbornly refuse to take pitches. Plus, the Rally Monkey is a travesty.
26. Marlins—Mets rival, always kind of obnoxious.
27. Cardinals—I don’t mean to say this in some sort of Patrick Ewing sort of way, but the Mets were the better team in 2006. Yes, I realize that the nature of baseball means that the inferior team will often win a seven-game series, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.
28. Braves—They tormented all Mets fan from 1998-2005.
29. Phillies—The new Braves.
30. Yankees—I realize this is irrational. My least-favorite team should be the Phillies or Braves, both direct rivals of my favorite team, but I just can’t help it. I simply hate the Yankees. And when the Braves played the Yankees in the World Series, I rooted for Atlanta. And if the Phillies faced the Yankees, I’d probably root for Philly.
A lot of people in the sports media will tell you that members of the sports media are not supposed to have favorites because it prevents objectivity, and I've always thought this was dumb. Being a passionate fan is what got me into this business in the first place. The day I stop being a fan is the day I stop enjoying my job.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Won't You Be My Neighbor
Normally I could not give a crap about celebrity gossip. If Lindsey Lohan passes out drunk at Hillary Duff's house because of one too many Bartles & James, I really couldn't care less. However, once in a while, there is a piece of celebrity news that is so huge, and hits so close to home, that I can't help but get excited about it. Just take a look at this excerpt from Usmagazine.com that my sister sent to me:
"Is Angelina Jolie looking for an apartment in NYC?
A few weeks after signing the lease on a $60 million Long Island mansion, the actress, 33, was spotted checking out a nice building in Manhattan's uptown Washington Heights neighborhood Tuesday afternoon."
To channel my inner Dick Vitale, "Are you serious??!?!!?!?!?!" In case you didn't know, I grew up in Washington Heights, and the thought of arguably the world's most famous couple buying a place there is somewhat incomprehensible. To be clear, it's not as if I lived in one of the tougher areas of the Heights. In fact, I probably lived in the least-tough section of the neighborhood, complete with security guards and rose gardens. That being said, I can still relate with the entire area, as I had to venture out of my little Ivory Tower to run errands and get to the subway. As recently as 15 years ago, it was a big deal when the Heights finally got a restaurant that didn't have plastic utensils. The next thing I knew, gay men decided it was going to be an annex of Chelsea, and suddenly the Heights had cache.
The transformation of Washington Heights is no different than the "gentrification" of other neighborhoods around New York City over the past decade, but I am not sure I will really ever get over it. For so many years, no one knew where it was, or if they did, they thought it was the Bronx. To this day, when Tim McCarver talks about Manny Ramirez, he says something to the effect of, "Ramirez, who's from the Washington Heights section of the Bronx." Yes, he's from Washington Heights, but it's not the Bronx. Represent.
The Heights has changed so much over the years, that there are now Starbucks, organic foods stores and "gift stores." You know, the places where the sell shit no one would ever actually want. And now, two of the most famous people in the world are looking for a place up there. They must have really liked "In The Heights."
It's hard to imagine Brad and Angie actually moving in, but it would probably good for property values. But then again, after seeing them at the Oscars last night, I was again reminded of how weird those two are. They might make for weird neighbors. But probably no weirder than the old Russian dude that used to stand in the middle of Bennett Park and scream "Gyna" at the top of his lungs.
"Is Angelina Jolie looking for an apartment in NYC?
A few weeks after signing the lease on a $60 million Long Island mansion, the actress, 33, was spotted checking out a nice building in Manhattan's uptown Washington Heights neighborhood Tuesday afternoon."
To channel my inner Dick Vitale, "Are you serious??!?!!?!?!?!" In case you didn't know, I grew up in Washington Heights, and the thought of arguably the world's most famous couple buying a place there is somewhat incomprehensible. To be clear, it's not as if I lived in one of the tougher areas of the Heights. In fact, I probably lived in the least-tough section of the neighborhood, complete with security guards and rose gardens. That being said, I can still relate with the entire area, as I had to venture out of my little Ivory Tower to run errands and get to the subway. As recently as 15 years ago, it was a big deal when the Heights finally got a restaurant that didn't have plastic utensils. The next thing I knew, gay men decided it was going to be an annex of Chelsea, and suddenly the Heights had cache.
The transformation of Washington Heights is no different than the "gentrification" of other neighborhoods around New York City over the past decade, but I am not sure I will really ever get over it. For so many years, no one knew where it was, or if they did, they thought it was the Bronx. To this day, when Tim McCarver talks about Manny Ramirez, he says something to the effect of, "Ramirez, who's from the Washington Heights section of the Bronx." Yes, he's from Washington Heights, but it's not the Bronx. Represent.
The Heights has changed so much over the years, that there are now Starbucks, organic foods stores and "gift stores." You know, the places where the sell shit no one would ever actually want. And now, two of the most famous people in the world are looking for a place up there. They must have really liked "In The Heights."
It's hard to imagine Brad and Angie actually moving in, but it would probably good for property values. But then again, after seeing them at the Oscars last night, I was again reminded of how weird those two are. They might make for weird neighbors. But probably no weirder than the old Russian dude that used to stand in the middle of Bennett Park and scream "Gyna" at the top of his lungs.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
No Charge
There are few certainties in life. But for me, one of the few I can count on is this: When a non-sports oriented mainstream publication runs a major sports-related story, it will get e-mailed to me by at least four different people. I'm not complaining about this phenomenon, it's just a fact. People who know me know that I love sports, and therefore they think I will enjoy the story, or at least like to know what kinds of stories non-sports publications believe are worthy of publishing. And this goes both ways. I have a friend who loves, LOVES, Tom Waits, so if I see a story about Waits (or one that references him in any meaningful way), I will always send it to him in an e-mail that begins, "I'm sure I'm like the 20th person to send this to you, but . . ."
This is a long way of saying that when I heard Michael Lewis had a story about Shane Battier and the use of sabermetrics in basketball in The New York Times Magazine, I knew that a bunch of people would send it to me. And they did. Say what you want about Lewis, and some of the embellishments in "Moneyball," but he's an excellent storyteller. And as someone who has been really interested in the growing use of sabermetrics in basketball, I loved the story. Not only did I learn something about the Rockets' progressive methods, but Battier came off as affable, intelligent and self-aware. The one downside of the story is that it reminded me of why I used to hate Battier—drawing charges.
As someone who worshipped the Knicks of the early 1990s, it might seem a little hypocritical to knock a guy for his ability to draw charges. Heck, John Starks, Derek Harper and Charles Oakley were the Three Tenors of drawing charges. They made it in an art. And as the Knicks mastered the art of drawing charges at the pro level, the Duke Blue Devils were at the forefront of the movement in the college game, with Battier leading the way. I dislike Duke basketball (except for Grant Hill) for a variety of reasons, and their flopping is right up there at the top of the list.
I was discussing this phenomenon with my roommate, and he brought up a good point. "Has Stuff White People Like done a piece on drawing charges?" he asked. Seriously, is there anything white/Duke basketball players like more than drawing charges? I'm guessing it has something to do with making up for physical limitations, because I remember once drawing a charge in a middle school basketball game, and it was orgasmic. However, since I was playing against a bunch of other pudgy, Jewish kids, I'm not exactly sure if I was making up for any biological shortcomings.
The greater point of this whole thing is that charges are dumb, and I didn't come to this realization until long after Oakley had retired. By simply in getting in someone else's way, you can draw a foul, but shouldn't we encourage defenders to be making a play on the ball? Instead, we've created this culture where defenders try to calculate when they can step into someone else's path so as to draw a charge. Then they flop backwards like they've been shot to try and get the whistle, and they usually do. Then said player is embraced by their coach and verbally fellated by the TV announcers because of "good fundamentals." You know what is actually good fundamentals? Defending (and possibility blocking) the shot or pass.
It's funny, I've heard a lot of American criticize soccer because of all the diving to draw fouls, but that's exactly what every single basketball player is doing when they try to draw a charge. The only time a charge should be called is if the player with the ball is out of control. That's it. Otherwise, the onus should be on the defender to make a play on the ball.
This is a long way of saying that when I heard Michael Lewis had a story about Shane Battier and the use of sabermetrics in basketball in The New York Times Magazine, I knew that a bunch of people would send it to me. And they did. Say what you want about Lewis, and some of the embellishments in "Moneyball," but he's an excellent storyteller. And as someone who has been really interested in the growing use of sabermetrics in basketball, I loved the story. Not only did I learn something about the Rockets' progressive methods, but Battier came off as affable, intelligent and self-aware. The one downside of the story is that it reminded me of why I used to hate Battier—drawing charges.
As someone who worshipped the Knicks of the early 1990s, it might seem a little hypocritical to knock a guy for his ability to draw charges. Heck, John Starks, Derek Harper and Charles Oakley were the Three Tenors of drawing charges. They made it in an art. And as the Knicks mastered the art of drawing charges at the pro level, the Duke Blue Devils were at the forefront of the movement in the college game, with Battier leading the way. I dislike Duke basketball (except for Grant Hill) for a variety of reasons, and their flopping is right up there at the top of the list.
I was discussing this phenomenon with my roommate, and he brought up a good point. "Has Stuff White People Like done a piece on drawing charges?" he asked. Seriously, is there anything white/Duke basketball players like more than drawing charges? I'm guessing it has something to do with making up for physical limitations, because I remember once drawing a charge in a middle school basketball game, and it was orgasmic. However, since I was playing against a bunch of other pudgy, Jewish kids, I'm not exactly sure if I was making up for any biological shortcomings.
The greater point of this whole thing is that charges are dumb, and I didn't come to this realization until long after Oakley had retired. By simply in getting in someone else's way, you can draw a foul, but shouldn't we encourage defenders to be making a play on the ball? Instead, we've created this culture where defenders try to calculate when they can step into someone else's path so as to draw a charge. Then they flop backwards like they've been shot to try and get the whistle, and they usually do. Then said player is embraced by their coach and verbally fellated by the TV announcers because of "good fundamentals." You know what is actually good fundamentals? Defending (and possibility blocking) the shot or pass.
It's funny, I've heard a lot of American criticize soccer because of all the diving to draw fouls, but that's exactly what every single basketball player is doing when they try to draw a charge. The only time a charge should be called is if the player with the ball is out of control. That's it. Otherwise, the onus should be on the defender to make a play on the ball.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Jammin' On The One
Upon stumbling into the Izod Center (formerly Brendan Byrne Arena) for Monster Jam, I wasn't exactly sure what I was getting into. Sure, I had grown up on commercials telling me that on "Sunday, Sunday, Sunday" there would be "mud, sweat and gears" at some local arena, but I had never heeded those words. And though I knew there would be monster trucks driving over beat-up old cars, I didn't really understand the machinations of a monster truck rally. In order to find some answers (and get some beer), my companions and I decided to chat up a beer vendor.
"Well, it's pretty much like the WWE in that it's all fixed," he said. "And I'll tell you this much, you won't find any of these guys on Jeopardy."
If that's not a great sales pitch, than I don't know what is.
If you've never been to a monster truck rally, here's a brief rundown. There are four mediums, wheelies, sprint, doughnuts and freestlye.
The wheelie competition is judged, and it seems as though you are rewarded for getting as close as possible to a 90-degree angle. The three judges were sitting about three rows behind us, and they each had 10 pieces of paper numbered 1-10. When each contestant had performed, they held up their score. It was pretty sophisticated.
The sprint was pretty objective. Two cars lined up alongside one another and raced across rows of adjacent cars to a finish line about 25 yards away. Like the wheelie competition, it was over in about four seconds.
Doughnuts were probably the most amusing event, as each truck tried to generate enough speed to spin around in circles as quickly and tightly as possible. The one downfall of this event was that it was loud. In fact, the whole thing is pretty fucking loud. I wasn't prepared for it, but when I noticed that the family sitting next to us were all wearing those noise-canceling headphones you see people wearing at gun ranges, I knew we were in trouble. I really can't say enough about how loud a monster truck rally is, and the doughnuts are the loudest part. Like the wheelies, this is event judged.
The last event is the freestyle, which is simply 60 seconds for each driver to show off all his best tricks. In reality, it's just a repeat of what we've just seen in the previous three events. I got the feeling that the executives of the Monster Truck Association of America (I made that name up) decided that people needed a little more for their money, so they created the freestyle. It seemed unnecessary, but Gravedigger, which I gather is the Hulk Hogan of monster trucks, put on quite a show in the freestyle. So I guess that made it worthwhile.
I've mentioned this experience to a few people over the past week, and the most common question seems to be, "what was the demographic at the show?" It appeared to be mostly families with young sons, and the headphone family next to us appeared to be experts. Whenever I needed a question answered about the "sport," their eight-year-old son was more than happy to fill me in. That was nice. There was also a pair of girls who appeared to be in their early 20s sitting in front of us. My friends and I asked them if they were regulars at monster truck rallies, and one of them said, "not really. I'm a big WWE fan, and she loves NASCAR. So we figured we would check this out." These are definitely not the kind of girls I met at a small private college in Maine.
I wouldn't say that "attend a Monster Truck rally" was on my bucket list, but it certainly satisfied a lifelong curiosity of what one would be like. Not sure how much fun it would be sober, but it definitely passed the "fun while drunk" test. But then again, what doesn't?
Thursday, January 29, 2009
More Bruce!
It's come to my attention that there is a faction of Bruce fans who are unhappy about him playing halftime at the Super Bowl. I learned this from a recent Joe Posnanski column on the subject, and it seems as though a number of die-hard fans think that because he has been turning down the opportunity to play the Super Bowl halftime show for years, his agreeing to do it this year means he is somehow "selling out." Now, I don't know if the people discussed in Posnanski's column actually represent a large number of Bruce fans, but I don't have the energy to go scouring message boards and Bruce blogs, so I'll just assume there is a relatively sizable number of Springsteen fans who feel this way. If so, that's just silly.
On a 1-10 scale, with 1 being "I'll stupidly sing along to Glory Days when it gets thrown on the jukebox," and 10 being, "I have a copy of an experimental ska album done by Clarence Clemons and Nils Lofgren," I'd say my Bruce fandom rates at about a 7. I love him, and of course the E Street Band, but I am not fanatical about him. I went through a two-year period around the turn of the century when I was obsessed with his three-disc live album, and I have now seen him in concert four times. In fact, on more than one occassion I've told people that seeing him with my three of my closest friends in a luxury box box (with an open bar) at Madison Square Garden in 2001 was the most fun I've ever had. And I meant it.
That being said, I am not as obsessed as many others are. And as a result, I may not have the same kind of connection deep in my soul where his decision to play the Super Bowl could somehow affect me. But at this point in his career, it's hard to imagine there is any way Bruce could realistically "sell out." The guy has been packing stadiums (not arenas, stadiums) for decades. He's sold millions of records and been worshipped by pretty much everyone everywhere.
Furthermore, the whole concept of selling out is kind of stupid to begin with. When musicians start making music, they're dream is to get as big as someone like Springsteen. That's the goal, to fill venues and sell countless records. The whole thing reminds of a quote about selling out that I believe has been credited to James Hetfield of Metallica. "Yeah we sold out. Every night, every show, every building." At this point, the only way I think Bruce could actually sell out is if he and the E Street band did a U.S. tour in support of Sarah Palin's 2012 presidential campaign. If that happens, then yeah, he sold out.
I realize it's common for fans who have been with an artist from the beginning to feel a sense of detachment when they hit it big. And when it happens, they will accuse the band of "selling out." But usually what happens in those cases is that the band then develops a whole new mainstream following and loses its original die-hards in the process, kind of like Blues Traveler. But even if there were Bruce fans who gave up on him when he hit it big, they are long gone. So if you're still a Bruce fan, you've lived through "Dancing in the Dark," you've lived through "Human Touch." For Godsakes, you've lived through that remix of "The Secret Garden" that played all over the radio that included audio clips from "Jerry Maguire." If you stayed with Bruce after that, how the hell could you think he is selling out now?
So what if Bruce has been turning down the Super Bowl for 20 years and suddenly decided he wants to do it. At this point, the guy doesn't have a lot left that he hasn't accomplished musically. Playing halftime of the Super Bowl is one more thing to check off the old list. And some might say he's only doing this because he wants to pimp his new record. So what? The guy just made a new album he's proud of, and he wants people to listen to it. Why not promote to the entire fucking world?
There's a chance that Posnanski is wrong, and Bruce fans aren't actually upset about this. If so, then I guess this whole post can serve as my feelings about the concept of "selling out."
On a 1-10 scale, with 1 being "I'll stupidly sing along to Glory Days when it gets thrown on the jukebox," and 10 being, "I have a copy of an experimental ska album done by Clarence Clemons and Nils Lofgren," I'd say my Bruce fandom rates at about a 7. I love him, and of course the E Street Band, but I am not fanatical about him. I went through a two-year period around the turn of the century when I was obsessed with his three-disc live album, and I have now seen him in concert four times. In fact, on more than one occassion I've told people that seeing him with my three of my closest friends in a luxury box box (with an open bar) at Madison Square Garden in 2001 was the most fun I've ever had. And I meant it.
That being said, I am not as obsessed as many others are. And as a result, I may not have the same kind of connection deep in my soul where his decision to play the Super Bowl could somehow affect me. But at this point in his career, it's hard to imagine there is any way Bruce could realistically "sell out." The guy has been packing stadiums (not arenas, stadiums) for decades. He's sold millions of records and been worshipped by pretty much everyone everywhere.
Furthermore, the whole concept of selling out is kind of stupid to begin with. When musicians start making music, they're dream is to get as big as someone like Springsteen. That's the goal, to fill venues and sell countless records. The whole thing reminds of a quote about selling out that I believe has been credited to James Hetfield of Metallica. "Yeah we sold out. Every night, every show, every building." At this point, the only way I think Bruce could actually sell out is if he and the E Street band did a U.S. tour in support of Sarah Palin's 2012 presidential campaign. If that happens, then yeah, he sold out.
I realize it's common for fans who have been with an artist from the beginning to feel a sense of detachment when they hit it big. And when it happens, they will accuse the band of "selling out." But usually what happens in those cases is that the band then develops a whole new mainstream following and loses its original die-hards in the process, kind of like Blues Traveler. But even if there were Bruce fans who gave up on him when he hit it big, they are long gone. So if you're still a Bruce fan, you've lived through "Dancing in the Dark," you've lived through "Human Touch." For Godsakes, you've lived through that remix of "The Secret Garden" that played all over the radio that included audio clips from "Jerry Maguire." If you stayed with Bruce after that, how the hell could you think he is selling out now?
So what if Bruce has been turning down the Super Bowl for 20 years and suddenly decided he wants to do it. At this point, the guy doesn't have a lot left that he hasn't accomplished musically. Playing halftime of the Super Bowl is one more thing to check off the old list. And some might say he's only doing this because he wants to pimp his new record. So what? The guy just made a new album he's proud of, and he wants people to listen to it. Why not promote to the entire fucking world?
There's a chance that Posnanski is wrong, and Bruce fans aren't actually upset about this. If so, then I guess this whole post can serve as my feelings about the concept of "selling out."
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
I Love Rock And Roll
I've been thinking about Bruce Springsteen a lot recently. The most obvious reason for this being that he, along with the E Street Band, is playing at halftime of the Super Bowl. While I don't normally give a rat's ass about who does the halftime show, Bruce is about as good as it gets. Therefore, it's a good bet that this year's halftime will be entertaining, as opposed to unbearable. I still miss the days when shows like "In Living Color" and "Beavis and Butthead" ran original episodes during halftime of the Super Bowl, but even that probably would've lost out to Bruce for me. In case you were wondering, "In Living Color's" Super Bowl content hasn't aged all that well, though I did chuckle at their Bob Griese joke.
The other reason I've been thinking about Bruce is because of a band I've recently discovered called The Gaslight Anthem. Like dozens (maybe thousands) of bands before them, TGA's sound is regularly compared to Bruce's. And really, these guys are like him, and it's not just because they are from New Jersey. As guitarist Alex Rosamilia says of his band, "It sounds like Bruce Springsteen singing for a Cure cover band, with a tinge more aggression." If that description doesn't intrigue you, well then I don't think I like your taste in music.
I came across TGA when I noticed they were playing at Webster Hall with Heartless Bastards, another recent fave. I figured that if they were playing with Heartless Bastards, they must be pretty good. So I read a couple of reviews, and their most recent album, The '59 Sound, was very well-received. And I obviously took notice when I saw a number of reviews compare them to the Boss. I then checked them out on MySpace, and bought tickets to the show after listening to this song.
***On an unrelated noted, I just remembered that Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers played the halftime of the Super Bowl last year. This is relevant because of how Heartless Bastards got their name. A couple of the members of the band were playing one of those video trivia games at a bar, and the question was, "what is the name of Tom Petty's band?" And one of the options for multiple choice was "Heartless Bastards." That means that the last two bands I've fallen in love with both have direct ties to the two most recent Super Bowl halftime performers. Coincidence? I think so.
Part of what I enjoy about TGA is that they're completely unabashed about their Bruce influence. In fact, I've noticed references to Bruce lyrics in at least two of their songs.While noticing things like that are kind of cool as a Springsteen fan, that's not why I've been obsessed with them for a week. When it all comes down to it, what makes them stand out is that they just rock. They're sound is not really original, but it doesn't matter. As far as I'm concerned, the true sign of a great rock band is one that make you want to get into a power stance and air-guitar along with them. And it's not necessarily because the guitar playing is transcendent on its own, but because the band has such a feel for the music they are trying to make. That's TGA.
Oh, and I love their attitude. The quote I gave above from Rosamilia comes from some random Q&A I found on a music blog. And I particularly enjoyed this exchange:
Q: You have also been compared to The Killers, does this make you feel any different to the Springsteen comments?
A: I couldn’t care less about being compared to the Killers. I’ve never really gotten into them, and I don’t see the comparison at all. Sorry.
Could this be the start of a Killers-TGA feud? I hope so.
And while we are still sort of on the subject of Bruce, let me just put out my prediction for the four songs he will play on Sunday. My guess is he opens with The Rising, followed by The Wrestler. Then he'll go into Glory Days and finish it all off with Born To Run. Just in case you cared . . .
The other reason I've been thinking about Bruce is because of a band I've recently discovered called The Gaslight Anthem. Like dozens (maybe thousands) of bands before them, TGA's sound is regularly compared to Bruce's. And really, these guys are like him, and it's not just because they are from New Jersey. As guitarist Alex Rosamilia says of his band, "It sounds like Bruce Springsteen singing for a Cure cover band, with a tinge more aggression." If that description doesn't intrigue you, well then I don't think I like your taste in music.
I came across TGA when I noticed they were playing at Webster Hall with Heartless Bastards, another recent fave. I figured that if they were playing with Heartless Bastards, they must be pretty good. So I read a couple of reviews, and their most recent album, The '59 Sound, was very well-received. And I obviously took notice when I saw a number of reviews compare them to the Boss. I then checked them out on MySpace, and bought tickets to the show after listening to this song.
***On an unrelated noted, I just remembered that Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers played the halftime of the Super Bowl last year. This is relevant because of how Heartless Bastards got their name. A couple of the members of the band were playing one of those video trivia games at a bar, and the question was, "what is the name of Tom Petty's band?" And one of the options for multiple choice was "Heartless Bastards." That means that the last two bands I've fallen in love with both have direct ties to the two most recent Super Bowl halftime performers. Coincidence? I think so.
Part of what I enjoy about TGA is that they're completely unabashed about their Bruce influence. In fact, I've noticed references to Bruce lyrics in at least two of their songs.While noticing things like that are kind of cool as a Springsteen fan, that's not why I've been obsessed with them for a week. When it all comes down to it, what makes them stand out is that they just rock. They're sound is not really original, but it doesn't matter. As far as I'm concerned, the true sign of a great rock band is one that make you want to get into a power stance and air-guitar along with them. And it's not necessarily because the guitar playing is transcendent on its own, but because the band has such a feel for the music they are trying to make. That's TGA.
Oh, and I love their attitude. The quote I gave above from Rosamilia comes from some random Q&A I found on a music blog. And I particularly enjoyed this exchange:
Q: You have also been compared to The Killers, does this make you feel any different to the Springsteen comments?
A: I couldn’t care less about being compared to the Killers. I’ve never really gotten into them, and I don’t see the comparison at all. Sorry.
Could this be the start of a Killers-TGA feud? I hope so.
And while we are still sort of on the subject of Bruce, let me just put out my prediction for the four songs he will play on Sunday. My guess is he opens with The Rising, followed by The Wrestler. Then he'll go into Glory Days and finish it all off with Born To Run. Just in case you cared . . .
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