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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)