| | MONDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1999
Well, the fans finally came to Shea on Sunday, and were treated to yet another thriller. Early on, all the talk was of defense.
Top of the third, Kris Benson on first base, Al Martin grounds the ball just to the right of John Olerud. Edgardo Alfonzo goes way to his left and grabs the ball, then pivots for the throw to Rey Ordonez at second base. Well, he's sort of on second base. When Ordonez actually caught the ball, he was about as close to the bag as I am to winning the Pulitzer Prize for Literature. Nevertheless, Benson is out. Ordonez uncorks a strong throw to first, and Martin is out, too, even though he beats the throw by a nose.
So you had an interesting play, a 4-6-3 double play that covered more territory than any I've ever seen, and resulted in two outs when both runners should have been safe. Pirates first-base coach Joe Jones was so disgusted, he eventually was asked -- nay, ordered -- to leave the field.
And in the bottom of the fourth, Kevin Young made yet another error, his 23rd of the season, which led to the Mets' first run. Yesterday, I noted that Young's 22nd error gave him the most for any first baseman in the 1990s. Well, with Error No. 23, I decided to dig back a little further. Young's total this season is the highest for a first baseman since 1977, when Boston's George Scott committed 24 miscues. Nobody's had more than 24 since 1965 (Donn Clendenon, 28). Going at this from another angle, Young has made more errors this season than Mets infielders Robin Ventura, Rey Ordonez and Edgardo Alfonzo combined (they have 18 between them).
Fast forward to the bottom of the ninth, when Mike Piazza stepped to the plate with one out and the bases loaded, score deadlocked at one apiece. Piazza had homered in both Friday's and Saturday's games, but if there was still somebody out there who thinks Piazza wilts at crunch time, this would be his chance to end such talk forever.
So of course, Brad Clontz, summoned from the bullpen with the express
purpose of retiring the right-handed power hitter, buried his first pitch in
the dirt, and a dazed (relieved?) Piazza just watched as Melvin Mora trotted
home from third base to end the game. This might have been the biggest wild
pitch in the major leagues since 1972, when Bob Moose -- yes, another Pirate
-- threw one past Manny Sanguillen in Game 5 of the NLCS, allowing George
Foster to score the winning run that sent Cincinnati to the World Series.
As dramatic as the Mets-Pirates game was, the Astros-Dodgers game was just as mundane, as the Astros grabbed a 4-0 lead in the first inning, thanks to five walks from Robinson Checo and Daryle Ward's bases-clearing double.
I wrote yesterday that Gary Sheffield should have played in the last two games, whether he was a little "banged up" or not. But I also believe that Davey Johnson does not deserve criticism for refusing to pitch Kevin Brown on three days' rest. In this writer's opinion, managers in pennant-deciding games are obliged to try to win, in the context of the rest of the season. If Johnson was managing a game against the Astros on July 3 rather than October 3, Sheffield would have played, so he should also have played Sunday. However, Brown never pitched on three days' rest all season long. So pitching Brown yesterday would have been an unnatural act, in the context of the season. And a manager is not obliged to act unnaturally, even when there's a pennant involved.
Now, could Johnson have made a better choice than Checo, who entered the game with an 8.22 ERA, and left it (in the first inning, no less) with a 10.34 mark? Well, Ismael Valdes would have started, but he left the team to be with his father, who was involved in a car accident last week. Darren Dreifort had been shut down since Sept. 15. Looking at the roster, you wonder why Jeff Williams didn't start. In five games, including three starts, Williams is 2-0 with a 4.08 ERA. Oops, Williams just started (and won) on Thursday.
The other possibilities were Jamie Arnold (2-4, 5.32) and Mike Judd (3-1, 5.46), neither of whom have been pitching like Sandy Koufax. Actually, neither of them has pitched at all since the middle of September, so they were not realistic options, either. All in all, it doesn't look like Johnson had much of a choice. And Checo was it. (One reader suggested to me that Johnson wanted to lose, as it would have hurt the two National League clubs -- New York and Cincinnati -- that have fired him. Interesting coincidence? Sure, but that's all it is.)
There's little doubt that the Astros' 9-4 victory, clinching their third straight NL Central title, represents the grandest regular-season sendoff for an outgoing ballpark in the history of the game. And then, in what originally was to have been another stadium sendoff in Milwaukee, we were treated to the surreal sight of a crucial game played in front of a few hundred chilly Brewers and Reds fans. What makes that particularly humorous is that the Brewers set an all-time team record for paid attendance last night, with 55,992 tickets sold.
Baseball should not take place when there's standing water in the outfield, but of course this was a special case. To be honest about it, though, no matter what happened in the game, it was tough to get real excited without the natural soundtrack of at least a few thousand fans. I did enjoy hearing those two guys sitting behind third base discuss the difference between "connote" and "denote."
Anyway, Sunday's results mean baseball on Monday, and a short delay in the annual onset of baseball-less depression.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 5
I believe I've not done a game diary since the Cubs and Giants faced off, also for the NL wild card, almost exactly a year ago. So without further ado ...
7:10
Rickey Henderson leads off the game with a single to left field.
7:12
Edgardo Alfonzo drives a ball through 415 feet of heavy drizzle and over the wall in straightaway center field. Mets take 2-0 lead.
7:16
Steve Parris gets Robin Ventura to bounce into a 1-6-3 double play, and the Reds are still alive, at least for the time being.
7:20
Pokey Reese and his .329 on-base percentage lead off. Needless to say, Reese is not the ideal leadoff man, notwithstanding his 84 percent success rate when stealing. If you were playing Strat-O-Matic or something, you'd probably move Barry Larkin to the leadoff slot, given that he doesn't have much power and is the only Red with a truly outstanding OBP (.392). But in real life, you don't move Larkin to No. 1 after he's spent the entire season hitting second or fifth. So somebody else hits leadoff, and there's no sense moving Jeffrey Hammonds there just for the sake of an extra 20 points of OBP. So Reese is at the top of the order. And like a famous pitcher once said, "Youneverknow." Reese draws his 35th walk of the season.
7:38
Jon Miller was discussing the Mets' amazingly sure-handed defense, which set records by committing only 68 errors and permitting only 20 unearned runs. Joe Morgan then said, "And it's more difficult for them because they play on natural turf. You get true hops on AstroTurf."
I'm not so sure about this. First of all, it depends on the turf, and all of them are different. But I suspect that, given the advances in "playing-surface technology" (or whatever they call it), real grass is much more true than it was, say, 25 years ago when Joe played. What's more, ersatz grass presents its own problems, as impact with the ground doesn't slow down the ball as much as the real stuff.
In fact, from 1996 through 1998, there were slightly fewer errors in Mets home games than in Mets road games. That doesn't prove anything, though. If you look at the parks with carpeting, you'll find that nearly all of them result in fewer errors (the Metrodome is the only exception). What might we conclude from all this? While the grass at Shea Stadium is friendly to infielders, it's not nearly as friendly as the fake stuff, and the Mets infielders' brilliant fielding stats are, just as Joe says, even more impressive than if they'd been compiled in Pittsburgh or Houston.
7:45
Eddie Taubensee bats for the first time, and I'm wondering why he's in the lineup. As Jon and Joe point out, Taubensee totaled only 45 at-bats against left-handed pitchers this season, but he batted .345 in those 45 at-bats. That's not much of a sample, but the fact is that Taubensee's career numbers against left-handed pitchers are just about the same as those of Brian Johnson, Cincinnati's veteran right-handed-hitting catcher. Taubensee's been playing well lately, and he deserves to be in the lineup.
7:58
I don't really believe in "key moments" until something actually happens, but this would seem to fit the definition pretty well. It's the top of the third, the Mets still lead 2-0, and Denny Neagle has just been summoned to face Ventura with the bases loaded.
8:02
Neagle walks Ventura, who didn't swing at a single pitch, on a full count. Neagle apparently was emulating Jim Palmer, who pitched for 19 years in the big leagues and never allowed a grand slam. He retires the next hitter, Darryl Hamilton, in good order, and the Reds are still in the ball game, down 3-0. However, Mets pitchers have allowed only nine runs in their past five games. If I were a betting man, I'd bet that three runs is going to be enough.
8:33
Henderson leads off the fifth with a homer off the fair screen down the left-field line. Presumably, his heroics tonight will make people forget his mental errors during the Mets' recent losing streak.
8:38
Mike Piazza walks for the third time tonight. Anyone who thinks Piazza can't hit in pressure situations should look at this game. Piazza's a dangerous hitter no matter what the situation, as National League pitchers and managers will be quite happy to tell you.
8:46
With very little left in the tank, Neagle strikes out Roger Cedeno on a pitch in the dirt, leaving the bases loaded and the score 4-0.
9:14
Larkin jawed a little bit after watching strike three, but the pitch looked like a strike in the replay. There was plenty of questionable umpiring in New York over the weekend, but in this game, plate umpire Bruce Froemming has been nearly perfect.
9:21
Watching Danny Graves blow his nose on the ground, then wipe his nose on his sleeve, then pinch his nose between his fingers, I can't help but wonder if any pitcher has ever thrown a snotball. After all, we know that real pitchers have thrown shine balls, spitballs, paraffin balls and grease balls. In his classic piece, "The Glory of Their Hindsight," Bruce McCall has pitcher Ebos Depew throwing a pissball. And in a truly wonderful essay in last week's "The New Yorker," Adam Gopnik concocts, for his young son, a tale in which a three-year-old rookie pitcher for the 1908 Giants comes up with a "bottleball," thrown after dripping "a couple of drops of milk onto the seams of the baseball."
So why not a snotball?
9:33
The game is interrupted when a pair of "fans" escape the stands and mill around on the field. I've seen far too much of this behavior in 1999, and it's to be hoped that the various municipalities will take steps to make the penalties far more harsh than they are now. There are two issues involved. The first is security, as no player is safe when a spectator is running around out there. And the second is the integrity of the game, as a five-minute interruption can upset the delicate balance between opposing pressures at the key juncture of a ballgame.
10:03
Pokey Reese, leadoff man extraordinaire, leads off the bottom of the ninth with a liner into the left-field corner, and when he arrives at second base, he becomes the first Red of the evening to advance that far.
10:13
Leiter registers his first complete game of the season, as Alfonzo makes a nice catch of Dmitri Young's liner up the middle. Like Rick Reed two days ago, Leiter pitched his best game of 1999 when the Mets most needed it. And after being considered chokers just a week ago, now the Mets will be remembered for their performance under pressure.
Twice during the game, Jon Miller noted that in the long history of the major leagues, only one team has ever been two games out with three to play, yet reached the postseason (the one team being the San Francisco Giants in 1962). Interesting, this fact, but only somewhat relevant in 1999. Why? Because with the wild card, the Mets only needed help from one of two teams, rather than one of one. And they got that help from the Reds, who lost two of their final three games.
It's always a shame whenever a team wins 96 games but doesn't reach the postseason, but this time it's even more of a shame than usual. Entering this season, Cincinnati's player payroll was just a bit more than $33 million, or roughly half that of the Mets (and about $20 million less than Houston's, if you're counting).
Which reminds me, I'm getting awfully tired of people saying that the Dodgers' and Orioles' failures this year "prove" that money's not that important, after all. Well, with the elimination of the Reds, all eight of the postseason berths have gone to teams that rank in the top 12 in payroll. So while it's true that stupidity can trump dollars, I'm not sure that intelligence can. That is to say, if you've got a high payroll, you've got a great chance at reaching the postseason even if you're not that smart. But if you've got a low payroll, it probably won't matter how smart you are, at least in the context of major league executives.
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 6
I've got an incredible amount of respect for Bobby Cox. I believe he's the greatest manager of our era, and I'll support that assertion with facts in a Stats Class later this week.
That said, he occasionally makes an in-game decision that really makes you wonder if he knows what he's doing. Case in point, the ninth inning of Tuesday's 6-1 loss to the Astros. Already leading 2-1, Houston got runners on first and third with one out. Braves left-hander Mike Remlinger was on the mound, and Jeff Bagwell strolled to the plate with Carl Everett on deck.
What do you if you're Bobby Cox? Well, barring a pitching change, you've got three choices:
(a) You can bring in the infield, and hope for a grounder right at somebody.
(b) You can leave the infield at double-play depth, and hope for a double-play grounder right at somebody.
(c) You can walk Bagwell on purpose, thus bringing up a right-handed power hitter with the bases loaded.
Cox went with (c), which has to be one of the most asinine moves in postseason history. There is no intrinsic advantage to loading the bases like this, unless you think "a force at any base" is a real advantage. What you really need in this situation is a double play. Bagwell grounded into 18 double plays this season. Everett grounded into five.
But here's the real issue: If you're already a run down to Houston in the ninth, you cannot allow any more runs because there's a lefty out in the pen who throws 98 mph. In that situation, the focus has to be on not allowing even one more run. And if you can't give up another run, you don't load the bases on purpose. Why? It's very simple. Carl Everett's on-base percentage (.398) is significantly higher than Jeff Bagwell's batting average (.304). And this even ignores the fact that hitters generally get a boost when the bases are loaded, because the pitcher has to throw strikes.
Anyway, Cox's move isn't what beat the Braves. Everett hit a sacrifice fly, and then Caminiti finished things off with a three-run homer. But it was a silly, stupid move, the kind of move that will occasionally cost you a ballgame. And as it happens, this (approximately) same move did cost the Braves a ballgame three years ago.
It was Game 4 of the World Series, and the score was 6-6 in the 10th inning. The first two Yankees grounded out, but a walk and single put Bombers on first and second. That brought up Bernie Williams -- that year's version of Jeff Bagwell, at least in the mind of Bobby Cox -- and he was intentionally walked. Pinch-hitter Wade Boggs walked, the Yankees scored the go-ahead run, and they eventually won 8-6.
Some managers might have learned a lesson from that.
Meanwhile, back in New York ...
There was a scary moment in the Yankees' regular-as-clockwork destruction of the Rangers, who apparently still haven't gotten used to all those big buildings in the big city. In the bottom of the third, Chuck Knoblauch sliced a foul ball into the Yankee dugout, where someone got nailed. After a few minutes, it became apparent that the man laid out on the dugout floor was Don Zimmer, and everybody who knows their baseball history couldn't help but remember the past.
On July 7, 1953, Don Zimmer was leading the American Association with 23 home runs and 63 RBI when he had his skull fractured by a Jim Kirk fastball. Near death, Zimmer was unconscious for three weeks and in the hospital for seven. He didn't play again that season.
On June 23, 1956, Zimmer, then with the Dodgers, had his cheekbone fractured by a Hal Jeffcoat fastball, and he didn't play again that season.
Zimmer, 68, just couldn't get out of the way. Two of the National League's most intimidating pitchers, Drysdale and Sal Maglie, were themselves afraid of hurting the little infielder. Maglie once said he "hated to pitch against him. I didn't dare throw at him because I knew he'd freeze."
Drysdale once wrote, "When we (the Dodgers) traded him to the Cubs for Perranoski in 1960, Popeye scared me half to death. He stood in there, right over the plate, daring you to come inside on him. He had a motto about that, too: 'If you're going to hit me, don't wound me. Get me good. I don't want to lie there quivering. I want to get it over with. Just end it.'"
Well, for a while last night, it looked like Knoblauch's foul ball might have gotten Zimmer "good," which (to quote Phil Rizzuto) "would have put a damper on even a Yankee win."
Zimmer was finally led to the clubhouse, and later he took his customary place on the bench, an icepack pressed to his lacerated left ear. He was smiling, and he and Knoblauch shared a few happy words. Winning always makes the hurt go away.
And the Yankees were winning, in part thanks to yet another fine postseason performance from one of the Hernandez brothers, who are now 7-0 in October. Early in El Duque's start, Bob Costas raised the subject of the right-hander's age. Referencing Roberto Gonzalez Echevarria's recent book on Cuban baseball, "The Pride of Havana," Costas said that according to Echevarria, Hernandez is actually 34 years old rather than the 30 you'll find in the media guide.
Well, that's not precisely true. Hernandez is, at most, 33 years old. But his birthday is next Monday, when he'll apparently either turn 30 or 34. In his book, Echevarria doesn't offer any real proof of the higher figure, merely reporting, "According to a Cuban baseball card issued in 1994, El Duque was born on October 11, 1965."
That's all well and good, but baseball cards make mistakes. So as far as I'm concerned, the question of Hernandez's age is still quite open. What interests me here is that many people are apparently convinced that Hernandez lied about his age, yet this doesn't seem to bother anybody.
Look, this is nothing new. Baseball players have been lying about their age since Abner Doubleday didn't invent the game. But if you're thinking about offering a pitcher a four-year contract, you have to know if he's 32 or 36. And after the 2001 season, the Yankees might be in that exact position.
Sports are weird. Sucker-punch a guy on the street, and you might be looking at a few weeks in the county lock-up. Sucker-punch a guy on the baseball field, and you might get suspended for a few days. Tell somebody in a job interview that you graduated from Harvard summa cum laude when you actually flunked out of Rebel State Teachers College, and you're in trouble. But if you tell a baseball team that you're 30 when you're actually 34, and ... well, that just means you're "colorful."
The Nightcap
Strange things just seem to happen to Randy Johnson in October. Last night, John Olerud hammered a two-run homer in the third inning, the first home run by a left-handed hitter off Johnson in more than two years. Then in the bottom of the seventh, Johnson doubled but was caught off second base one batter later when he thought there were two outs, and trotted to third on a routine fly to left field.
And before we leave this game, I'd like to briefly return to the theme we started with: Moves That Don't Make Sense. With the score tied at four runs apiece, Robin Ventura led off the top of the ninth with a single. With Roger Cedeno due next, The Book says you bunt. I don't agree with The Book, but that's OK. So Cedeno goes up to bunt, and the first two pitches are balls. Now you should take the bunt off, because Johnson is obviously struggling and it's a hitter's count.
But by God, once they tell a guy to bunt, he's going to bunt. And this time at least, it didn't work out, as Cedeno popped up the 2-0 pitch. Of course, nobody will remember this, because Buck Showalter won the Battle of Stupid Moves on this night.
First, he left Johnson in to throw 138 pitches, the last 15 of which were not delivered with their typical sizzle. And then Showalter committed one of the cardinal mistakes of managing a home team ... he "saved" his closer for a situation that never occurred. When you're playing at home, you have to use your best pitcher in the most crucial situation because once you get to the ninth inning, you're never going to have a lead that needs protecting. But instead, Matt Mantei never got into the game, and Bobby Chouinard was out there to allow Alfonzo's game-winning grand slam.
Finally, Randy Johnson now owns the all-time record for consecutive postseason losses, with six.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 7
In pitching a one-hitter yesterday, Kevin Millwood simply punctuated the statement he made all season long, which is that among all the young starters in the National League, he's perhaps the single best bet for stardom. Remember, Millwood gave us a hint of greatness back on April 14, 1998, when he tossed a one-hitter at Pittsburgh, striking out 13 Pirates in the process. And this season, he allowed three hits or fewer in nine starts.
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TOUGH TO HIT
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The five complete-game one-hitters in postseason history (Don Larsen threw
the only no-hitter, a perfect game in the 1956 World Series):
Kevin Millwood, 1999 Division Series: Millwood allowed only a second-inning home run to Ken Caminiti as he struck out eight and walked nobody. Game score: 89
Jim Lonborg, 1967 World Series: Boston's Lonborg blanked the Cardinals, allowing only a two-out single in the eighth to Julian Javier. He fanned four and walked one. He also pitched a three-hitter in Game 5 but lost Game 7. Game score: 88
Bill Bevens, 1947 World Series: The Yankees' Bevens was one out away
from a no-hitter against Brooklyn, but pinch-hitter Cookie Lavagetto doubled off the wall to give Brooklyn a 3-2 victory. Bevens walked 10, and technically didn't pitch a one-hitter because the game ended with two outs in the ninth. Game score: 65
Claude Passeau, 1945 World Series: Passeau pitched a one-hitter for
the Cubs against the Tigers in Game 3 (one walk, one strikeout). Game score:
85
Ed Reulbach, 1906 World Series: Reulbach allowed only a leadoff
single to Jiggs Donahue as the Cubs beat the White Sox 7-1. He walked six
and fanned three. Game score: 78
-- David Schoenfield
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Is Millwood the ace of the Atlanta staff? I'm not willing to go quite that far, not quite yet. But it seems likely that the narrowing of the strike zone did indeed affect Maddux and Glavine, who combined to allow 517 hits in 453 innings. And Smoltz is perpetually gimpy. So who does that leave?
It's amazing, this run of postseason failure the Red Sox have compiled. Since winning Game 5 of the 1986 World Series, the Sox have played 18 postseason games -- and they've lost 17 of them. That's just bizarre, and there two explanations (neither of them involving a curse). One, the Red Sox have generally been the lesser of the teams involved.
In 1988, the Sox were 15 games worse than the Athletics, and got swept.
In 1990, the Sox were 15 games worse than the Athletics, and got swept.
In 1995, the Sox were 14 games worse than the Indians, and got swept.
In 1998, the Sox actually won three more regular-season games than the Indians, and did finally manage a postseason win. This year it's reversed, as the Indians won three more regular-season games than the Red Sox. But it looks like, once again, the Sox might be fortunate to win even one postseason game.
Clearly, the relative quality of their opponents has been a problem, but 1-17 is steal freaky. I know it's a cop-out, and not a very convincing one at that, but I have to think the Sox have simply been very, very unlucky.
Finally, before the regular season becomes a vague memory, let's remember a few of the oddities of 1999:
Mark McGwire, with 146 RBI and 144 hits, became the first player in major league history with more RBI than hits (minimum 100 hits).
How bad was the American League Central? All five of the other divisions compiled winning records. Think about that. The AL Central combined for a 368-437 record, while every other division was at least four games over .500.
The Mets won 97 games, yet no Met pitcher won more than 13 games. I don't know if that's some sort of "record," but if it's not, it should be.
Red Sox scrubeenie Chad Fonville walked twice in three games. Mets scrubeenie Shawon Dunston walked twice in 104 games.
Darin Erstad -- one of the worst everyday players in the majors this season -- led the Angels with 13 steals.
In 1998, White Sox right-hander Jaime Navarro went 8-16 with a 6.36 ERA. In 1999, Navarro went 8-13 with a 6.09 ERA. That's what I call progress. At this rate, he'll be a good pitcher by the time he turns 40. By the way, he also was tagged for 18 unearned runs, just two fewer than the Mets allowed all season.
Nobody outside of Detroit noticed, but Doug Brocail has become a star setup man. He pitched 82 innings, posted a 2.52 ERA and permitted a paltry .206 batting average. A fluke? Probably not. Add Brocail's last three seasons together, and you get 223 innings and a 2.83 ERA. How many middle relievers can come close to those numbers?
The hitters have it easy these days? Try telling that to the Twins. Ron Coomer led the club with 16 home runs, and Marty Cordova topped the team with 70 RBI. Yet as bad as the Twins were, they scored almost as many runs (686) as the Angels (711).
Looking at these notes, I see that they're quite AL-centric, so we'll focus on the NL soon.
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 8
From what I can tell, there's been a late surge of support for Ivan Rodriguez as the American League's MVP. Bob Costas is behind Pudge's candidacy, as is USA Today's Mel Antonen, as are a number of my old pals at STATS, Inc.
With all due respect, however, I must attribute this to some form of mass hysteria.
No, it's not as crazy as the hysteria that resulted from Orson Welles' radio production of "The War of the Worlds." It's not as insane as that recent national belief that thousands of children were being subjected to Satanic ritual abuse. It's not as demented as another national belief, that Halloween trick-or-treating is actually dangerous. It's not as foolish as day trading. And it certainly makes more sense than the "tulip mania" that swept 17th-century Holland.
Still, the argument for Rodriguez as MVP is pretty darn wacky. The only thing I can figure is that so many players are putting up big numbers with the stick, that some baseball analysts have just decided that the numbers don't mean anything at all. This strikes me as a strange thing to decide.
Rodriguez is a fantastic player, a great defensive catcher who hits for average and power. But he simply is not one of the best hitters in the American League, position notwithstanding. Pudge's offensive winning percentage this year was .582, which ranked 39th in the league.
I know, I know, Rodriguez hit .332, he scored 116 runs, he drove in 113 runs, he stole 25 bases ... and he also drew 24 walks (24!), and he grounded into 32 double plays (tops in the majors). Add everything up and, on a per at-bat basis, Rodriguez was the 39th most productive hitter in the American League. I'm sorry about that, I really am, but it's out of my hands.
All those other numbers are impressive, to be sure. But you've got to put them into context.
Since World War II, four catchers have won MVP awards: Yogi Berra and Roy Campanella three times apiece, Johnny Bench twice and Thurman Munson once. Berra, Campanella and Bench were all among the best hitters in their leagues, and ranked at or near the top of various statistical categories. Perhaps the best analogue to Rodriguez is Munson, who was MVP of the American League in 1976. Like Rodriguez, Munson's on-base percentage (.343) and slugging percentage (.432) weren't within hailing distance of the league leaders. However, Munson did finish second in the league with 105 RBI (and you know how the MVP voters love RBI men on pennant-winning clubs).
Another interesting thing about all this is that Rodriguez and his amazing arm are being lionized at a point in history when that throwing arm is less valuable than it's been in a long time.
As for the rest of his defense, well, Johnny Oates says that Pudge has gotten better at working with pitchers, but Oates is not exactly an unbiased observer, is he? I certainly don't see any Cy Young candidates on the staff, and you have to admit that pitching has not been the Rangers' strong suit in recent seasons.
It seems to me that there is only one strong argument for Rodriguez as MVP, and it goes like this: No, he's not really a great hitter, not in the context of the league. But he is the best-hitting catcher in the American League, and it's not even close. So if you calculate "replacement value" -- that is, Pudge's value compared to an average American League catcher -- then he'll come out looking fantastic.
But does that really make sense here? That Pudge is easily the best catcher in his league is really just an accident. Put him in the National League and he'd have plenty of competition from Mike Piazza and Mike Lieberthal, plus Jason Kendall and Javy Lopez (if they were healthy).
Like I said, he's a great player. But while he might well be the MVP of his team, Ivan Rodriguez is simply not one of the five most valuable players in the American League, let alone the most valuable. When I filled out my (unofficial) ballot yesterday, I listed Pudge eighth.
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 9
Notes on the Braves vs. Astros on Friday ...
It was somewhat bizarre, watching the switch-hitting Carl Everett bat
left-handed against Tom Glavine. You see this from time to time when there's
a knuckleballer on the mound, but I can't remember ever seeing it against a
"conventional" pitcher. According to Jon Miller, Everett is 1-for-12
lifetime against Glavine (batting from the right side, of course).
Obviously, 12 at-bats isn't a large sample size, but on the other hand, if
Everett doesn't think he can hit Glavine right-handed, then he
probably won't. If Larry Dierker's bench were deeper, he might have just sat Everett, but the Astros don't have that luxury. So Everett batted lefty, and his first time up he walked to load the bases (and his second time up, he
singled).
Speaking of Glavine, I remain convinced that his problems this season
are related to a smaller, skinnier strike zone. No, I don't have any
proof, and that's frustrating to someone such as me. But in the
first inning, Glavine permitted two runs and walked two hitters, and there
were a number of balls that might have been strikes in past seasons.
Yes, it's just one game and just one umpire. But I've seen Glavine and
Greg Maddux pitch a few times this year, and they just don't seem to be getting the calls they once did. And that's as it should be, because the strike zone
should be exactly as wide as home plate, and not an inch more. (I wrote the
above too soon. In the bottom of the second, plate umpire Mark Hirschbeck
rang up Biggio on a pitch three inches outside. And Glavine pitched well
after the first inning.)
Top of the sixth, with a runner on second base, Mike Hampton walked Chipper Jones. Up in the booth,
Rick Sutcliffe observed, "Hampton wasn't going to give Chipper anything he
could hit out of the park because Brian Jordan's up next, and Jordan's
power has disappeared." Sutcliffe was right, but ...
BOOM! Not five seconds later, Jordan wallops Hampton's first pitch over the
wall in left-center to give the Braves a 3-2 lead.
A fascinating move in the seventh, as Bobby Cox summoned Maddux from the
bullpen with one out and a runner on second base. For years, I have wondered
why starters don't pitch (briefly) in relief more often.
On the other hand, the Braves' bullpen was a strength this season, as
five different Atlanta relievers posted sub-3.50 ERAs while pitching at
least 47 innings. I suppose that Cox's thinking -- and I can't really fault
him for it -- is that if you put Maddux in the 'pen, that gives you one more
arm if you want to go left-right-left-right (though that's not what he did
in the seventh). Plus, the Braves are carrying only nine pitchers right now,
so that means Cox can't manage exactly as he would in the regular season.
Of course, like so many of Cox's other postseason moves over the years, this
one didn't work out. On Maddux's 3-2 pitch to Biggio, first-base umpire Dana
DeMuth made one of the worst calls you'll ever see when he ruled that Biggio
did not swing. He clearly, clearly did swing.
Then Mike Remlinger came in to face Bill Spiers, whose single tied the game. Next, strangely, Cox left Remlinger in to face Jeff Bagwell. And then, after the count went 2-1 on Bagwell, Cox ordered the intentional walk. That's right, he did the same thing he did Tuesday, intentionally walking
the bases loaded with a runner already on first base.
I won't bore you again with why that's one of the dumbest tactics in all of
sports. If you're curious, scroll down and read Wednesday's column. But this
time it worked out, as Remlinger struck out Ken Caminiti on a 3-2 changeup
(Caminiti -- he is strong -- responded by snapping his bat across his knee),
and then got Matt Mieske on a can of corn to center.
As my friend Tom Tippett likes to say, we shouldn't confuse favorable
outcomes with good decisions.
Speaking of which, Dierker was very lucky in the 10th inning. Just
as Buck Showalter did Tuesday night, Dierker ran the distinct danger of
losing a game without his best reliever ever having pitched. With just one
out in the bottom of the 10th, Otis Nixon stood on third base, Doug Henry on
the mound. I believe that you've got to get Billy Wagner in the game
here. Not only is he the best pitcher you've got, he's arguably the
greatest strikeout pitcher who ever lived.
Henry eventually loaded the bases, but Andruw Jones lined out to end the
inning with no damage. Still, I believe that if you're managing at home, you simply must use your best reliever in critical situations in the late innings, whether it's the eighth inning or the 10th.
Dierker's luck didn't hold in the 12th, however, as his continuing refusal
to use his best relief pitcher cost him the game. Meanwhile, Cox -- having
used his best reliever when necessary -- bravely called upon Kevin
Millwood to finish off the Astros. Which he did.
You know who would be great on MTV's "Celebrity Deathmatch?" Jose Lima
and John Rocker. I love watching Rocker sprint in from the bullpen, his
oversized uniform barely able to contain his intensity, like Bulldozer
storming a German pillbox in an old Sgt. Rock comic book.
Let me leave you with a bit of wit from a friend of mine, Steve Schulman ...
Top 10 Things Billy Wagner Was Doing in the 12th Inning
(from our home office in Katy, Texas):
10. Finishing his papier-mache sculpture of Judge Roy
Hofheinz
9. Asking Greg Maddux what it's like to be a relief pitcher
8. Counting ceiling tiles on the Astrodome roof
7. Walking on Moises Alou's treadmill
6. Hurrying back from home, where he forgot his glove
5. Watching the start of the Mets-Diamondbacks game
4. Trying to take off his Doug Henry mask
3. Asking Paul Bako why the old Houston hats had a .45 on them
2. Trying to unstick his cleats from the bullpen mound
1. Watching Brian Jordan start the end of the Astros' season
Thanks, Steve. As I write this a few minutes after the game, it looks like
Dierker blew it. But it's quite possible that Billy Wagner is suffering a
sore elbow, and simply wasn't available. If so, Dierker probably did
the best with what he had.
(Late note: Indeed, after the game, Wagner told reporters, "It's just sore right now ... I was going to face Klesko, but my elbow was barking pretty good.")
MONDAY, OCTOBER 11
Thus far, the postseason has been a second-guesser's cornucopia, and in that vein, you can't help but wonder about Mike Hargrove's decision to start the Indians' Bartolo Colon on three days' rest. After all, Colon had never started on three days' rest, at least not since he's been in the majors. Does this mean that he shouldn't have started Sunday night?
Look, Hargrove knows a lot more about his pitchers than you or I do. He obviously felt that Colon would be effective, and you have to respect Hargrove's opinion. This move didn't work out, and spectacularly so. But it seems to me that second-guessing in a situation like this isn't fair, because it's too easy. If I had written a column before the game questioning the use of Colon, that would be one thing. But it's a far different thing to sit here at my keyboard after the game, and say Hargrove screwed up. So I won't. Still, you have to wonder ...
When Jimy Williams summoned Tim Wakefield from the bullpen in the fifth, with the Red Sox leading by 13 runs, my gut reaction was that Williams had blundered. After all, assuming that Wakefield would have pitched three or four innings, that would have left Williams with essentially one option for a Game 5 starter, that option being Bret Saberhagen.
And while it's true that Saberhagen threw only 58 pitches in Game 2, it's also true that he threw only 58 pitches because he got hammered. The broadcasters spent a great deal of energy harping on Jose Offerman's inability to turn a double play, thus opening the floodgates. But the fact is that Saberhagen made very few quality pitches, and he walked three Indians in one inning after walking only 11 hitters during the entire regular season.
As it turned out, Wakefield didn't retire even a single hitter Sunday night, and thus he's still available for duty in Game 5. Given that fact, it's unlikely that Williams is thrilled with the idea of a seeing another knuckleball in 1999. So he's left with a true dilemma -- a choice between two unattractive options. He'll be second-guessed no matter what he does, all the more so if the Sox lose. But for Williams, the important thing is to make a choice -- at this writing, that choice will apparently be Saberhagen -- and appear confident about it.
Perhaps there's another option. Give Saberhagen the ball and tell him go as hard as he can for as long as he can. If that means three innings, then you bring in Wakefield and hope for three or four decent innings out of him before going to your quality relievers.
As for Pedro Martinez and any speculation that he might pitch, my spies in Beantown tell me that Pedro's injury might be even more serious than we've been told. So we'll probably see Bill Lee out there before we see Martinez.
This is not, I promise you, intended as some sort of backhanded slap at the Texas Rangers. They've won 183 games over the last two years. But their complete inability to score against those same Yankees in the postseason is quite inexplicable.
In 1998, the Rangers scored one run in three postseason games.
In 1999, the Rangers scored one run in three postseason games.
How strange were these numbers?
In the 1998 regular season, the Rangers were shut out six times. The fewest number of runs they scored over a three-game stretch was six.
In the 1999 regular season, the Rangers were shut out five times. The fewest number of runs they scored over a three-game stretch was two. Are the Rangers intimidated by the Yankees? Are they cowed? Are they flummoxed at the mere sight of pinstripes? Call me naive, but I think the Rangers just happened to hit particularly poorly on some evenings when the Yankees just happened to pitch particularly well.
Last week, we noted that while this year's Mets won 97 games, no single New York pitcher won more than 13. Unique? Well, a number of readers pointed out that the 1987 St. Louis Cardinals won 95 games even though three pitchers tied for the team lead with 11 victories.
Also last week, we raised the question about Orlando Hernandez's real birthday. Was he born in 1969, as Hernandez claims and the Yankees have parroted? Or was he born in 1965, like it says on his old Cuban baseball card?
Well, according to court documents filed in Havana, El Duque was born in 1965, and Monday is his 34th birthday. Hernandez's true birth date was included in his divorce papers, which have come to light recently in connection with a child-support case brought by his ex-wife.
I would argue that a standard player contract should require the player to divulge his actual birthday. And should it turn out that he was not truthful, the club should have the right to void said contract at its discretion.
On a personal note, I'm thrilled to find out that Hernandez really does turn 34 Monday, because that makes one more quality major leaguer who is older than I am. On another personal note, my vote for Most Annoying Thing in Baseball is the idiot with the great seat behind home plate and the cell phone, who spends half the game calling his friends and waving to the TV camera.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 12
In a postscript to his novel "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon," Stephen King writes, "God may be a sports fan, but He doesn't seem to be a Red Sox fan."
Well, perhaps when you've got Pedro Martinez on your side, it doesn't matter who His favorite team is. And of course, it also helped the Red Sox to have Mike Hargrove on their side in Game 5. But wait, we're getting ahead of ourselves ...
Before delving into the second-guessing and assorted other ugliness, let us take a moment and marvel at the wonders of this wonderful game of baseball. With the Indians ahead 5-2 in the second inning and already into the thin Red Sox bullpen, who'd have thought the Sox would even make it close, let alone win by four runs?
The key moments in Game 5 came (1) in the third inning, when, with right-hander Charles Nagy on the mound, Hargrove elected to intentionally walk Nomar Garciaparra, and (2) in the seventh inning, when, with right-hander Paul Shuey on the mound, Hargrove elected to intentionally walk Garciaparra. Both times, of course, Troy O'Leary followed with home runs on the first pitch, accounting for seven RBI.
The first time Garciaparra was passed, Tim McCarver described it as "The utmost respect. Walking a right-hander to get to a left-hander with over a hundred runs driven in."
Or perhaps, the utmost stupidity.
Garciaparra, for both his career and his 1999 season, has had virtually no platoon differential. Career, his OPS (on-base percentage + slugging percentage) versus lefties is 933, versus righties it's 934. I suspect that Garciaparra will eventually hit better against lefties than righties, because almost every player eventually does show a platoon differential. However, you can't expect a manager to assume such a thing, and as near as Mike Hargrove can tell, it doesn't matter what kind of pitcher is on the mound. Garciaparra will hit.
O'Leary, meanwhile, has a normal platoon differential over his career, 827 against righties and 740 against lefties. Those are the numbers that a manager should be concerned with. This year, however, O'Leary has been much better against left-handed pitchers. In 1999, he hit .346 against southpaws but just .257 against righties. All of which means very little. Single-season platoon splits aren't based on samples large enough to mean much. O'Leary is a left-handed hitter, and given enough chances, he, like all left-handed hitters, will do better against right-handed pitchers.
Still, we do know that, platoon differentials notwithstanding, Garciaparra is a better hitter than O'Leary, no matter who is pitching.
So if you're trying to protect a one-run lead in the ninth inning, there's a runner on second base but first base is open ... well, go ahead and walk Garciaparra. It's not a great percentage move, but if your pitcher can throw strikes it probably won't hurt you.
But any other time, it's a bad move. Why? Because while you're choosing to "pitch to" the lesser hitter, you're also giving away a baserunner.
In the third, Garciaparra's intentional walk came with runners already on second and third. I have, quite recently, written about the absurdity of walking the bases loaded on purpose.
In the seventh, Garciaparra's intentional walk came with a runner on second and one out. Again, handing your opponents a baserunner with one out does not make sense.
How many postseason games, I wonder, have been lost because a manager decided that "I'm not going to let [Superstar X] beat me." This type of foolish thinking led Bobby Cox to intentionally walk Bernie Williams in Game 4 of the 1996 World Series, because he didn't want Williams to beat him. So instead, Wade Boggs beat him.
Now, you can understand Hargrove's thinking. Garciaparra hit .451 against Cleveland during the regular season (23-for-51) with 17 RBI in 12 games. And he hit the home run in the first inning. Meanwhile, O'Leary had struggled during the series, going just 2-for-17 when he stepped to the plate in the third inning.
At the risk of sounding arrogant, I'm going to repeat something I've written many times before ... There's no such thing as a "streak hitter" or a "hot hitter." Just because Nomar Garciaparra homered in the first inning, that doesn't make him more likely to homer in the third inning, or the seventh inning. So with a right-hander on the mound and a left-handed hitter on deck, you don't intentionally walk Garciaparra whether it's October 11 or April 11. Baserunners are too valuable. You shouldn't give them away.
With the Red Sox meeting the Yankees in the ALCS, we're going to see Bucky Dent's home run in 1978 over and over again. If, by some miracle, the Red Sox wind up meeting the Mets in the World Series, we're going to see Bill Buckner's error over and over again. Unless, that is, the men and women who produce and direct sports programs read this column, and take the following advice ... Don't do it! We've all seen Bucky and Buckner hundreds of times, and we don't need more!
And finally, yesterday I wrote of Game 5, "As for Pedro Martinez and any speculation that he might pitch, my spies in Beantown tell me that Pedro's injury might be even more serious than we've been told. So we'll probably see Bill Lee out there before we see Martinez."
Well, after a thorough investigation I've discovered that my spies are actually double agents. They will be shot at dawn.
In my defense, I was right about Bret Saberhagen. It seemed to me that when a pitcher walks 11 hitters all season (as Saberhagen did in 1999), then turns around and walks three hitters in one inning (as Saberhagen did in Game 2 of the Division Series), there's something wrong with him. And after Saberhagen's performance in Game 5 -- one-plus inning, four hits, one more walk -- it looks like he's not even an option for the ALCS.
It also seems to me that the Red Sox will almost have to activate Pat Rapp and, even worse, they'll have to start him against the Yankees. And if Boston can beat the Bronxians with Pat Rapp in the rotation, even Stephen King will have to admit that maybe, just maybe, God has indeed become a Red Sox fan.
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 13
Just a few quick words about Tuesday's Mets-Braves game, which was pretty straightforward, before we revisit Monday night's shocker in Cleveland ...
The Mets came out swinging against Greg Maddux, which never fails to amuse me. Every time this happens, the broadcasters duly intone, "The [insert team here] know that the first pitch from Maddux is probably the best one to hit, so they're going up hacking."
It's an interesting strategy. But if it worked, don't you think Maddux's numbers would have suffered over the years? Hey, it's good to have a plan. But the fact is that if Maddux is making his pitches, it doesn't matter whether you swing at the first one or the fourth. He's going to get you out.
All right, now let's get back to Mike Hargrove's strange decisions to intentionally walk Nomar Garciaparra, twice. Craig Wright, one of the greatest baseball minds on the planet, wrote in with the following:
Rob,
You could hammer a lot more on the intentional walk than just talking about giving up the extra baserunner.
With men in scoring position, it is a much tougher pitching situation to be working with first base occupied versus first base open.
The reduced room for error on the pitcher's part essentially makes the next hitter more dangerous. Since 1996, with men in scoring position, major league hitters have hit 20 points higher when first base was occupied compared to when it was not, and with more power as well.
And that's generally more true for hitters like O'Leary, who don't have a particularly good eye at the plate and thus do better when the situation itself helps force the pitchers to throw more strikes.
Since 1996, O'Leary has hit .341 in 355 ABs with men in scoring position and first base occupied. It's only .286 with men in scoring position and first base open.
What has Garciaparra hit with men in scoring position, first base open? .311 for his career and .329 in 1999. Cleveland was not only giving up the extra baserunner, but quite conceivably was creating a BETTER hitter at the plate than the man they so feared.
Thanks, Craig. And as we both know, all these numbers are available to any major league team that wants them. The problem is that (1) most teams don't bother, and (2) even when teams do get the numbers, the manager generally doesn't pay attention. He's more worried about what his gut tells him, and perhaps even what the press tells him.
The press told Mike Hargrove that you shouldn't let Nomar Garciaparra beat you, and Mike Hargrove's gut told Mike Hargrove that Garciaparra was on a hot streak. In yesterday's column, I suggested that there is no such thing as a hot streak. More precisely, while it's obvious that hitters do enjoy hot streaks (and slumps), it's equally obvious, to me at least, that there's no reason to expect a hot player to remain hot. It was this assertion -- essentially, that hot hitting doesn't lead to more hot hitting -- that a lot of readers criticized.
In fact more than a few readers got personal, chiming in with things like, "Your comments show me you're one of those guys who a) NEVER played the game, and b) doesn't understand it, except for your statistics."
I love statements like this, with the subtext that I'm some sort of freaky defective who only leaves the house for soda pop and the latest statistical abstract. Well, since you asked, I've been playing sports since I was old enough to hold a ball. My athletic "career," while spectacularly undistinguished, has been long and varied. Basketball, football, baseball, softball, Ultimate, Frisbee golf, broomball, floor hockey, table tennis, tiddlywinks -- if somebody's keeping score, I want in. So please, spare me the condescension. And as long as we're on the subject, I'm quite familiar with the feeling (as opposed to the reality) of being "on a hot streak."
As anybody who loves sports can tell you, those particular moments of athletic successes and failures remain in your head, clear as a sunny winter morning, long after most other images are gone. One of my favorite memories revolves around a softball game six years ago. I batted three times, and every time I hit the ball hard, and I hit the ball exactly where I wanted, resulting in a pair of stand-up triples and an inside-the-park home run.
The lesson here? No, it's not that I was a great softball player, because I wasn't. The lesson is that even mediocre players can have great games, and it doesn't mean anything. Was there anything "different" about me that day? Sure, after the first triple I was feeling great, like I was king of the world. But you know, there have been lots of games since then where I felt great, and I certainly haven't collected 10 total bases in three at-bats again. There have been games where I hit the ball hard my first two at-bats, was brimming with confidence, seeing the ball well ... and then I grounded out to the pitcher. The fact is that if you have any ability at all and you play enough games, eventually you're going to hit like Babe Ruth in one of them. And while we all like to imagine that we do have the ability to play at a high level, the reality is that when it does happen, it's quite likely a fluke.
Hot streaks and slumps are, for the most part, random events. I know that's hard for people to take, because we're generally afraid of randomness. That's why we invent silly contrivances like "fate" and "The Curse of the Bambino." Mysterious and unfathomable, yes, but at least they're not as capricious as "chance."
OK, to this point I've offered nothing but anecdotal evidence, the self-absorbed musings of a frustrated athlete. So here's something you can really wrap your brain around. The following comes from my friend Mitchel Lichtman, and stikes me as a fairly methodical look at the issue of hot streaks and slumps, and whether they have any predictive qualities.
Mitchel studied the 1998 season, both major leagues. He broke down the season into 12 two-week periods. For each two-week segment, he made two lists: players who batted lower than .200, and players who batted higher than .350 (minimum 40 at-bats for both lists). Presumably, those are pretty fair definitions for "slump" and "streak."
Focusing on the "hot" group, those players combined for a .391 batting average in their two-week hot stretches. That includes 14,294 at-bats, so obviously the sample size is significant. That same group posted a .291 batting average including the hot streak and the previous season. Essentially, we're talking about a giant .291 hitter who has hit .391 over the last two weeks.
Now, if being hot is a predictor of future performance, then we would expect this group, in the coming at-bats, to hit closer to .391 than .291, right?
But of course, that's not what happened. The group actually hit .288 over the next two weeks, practically identical to the previous season's average (plus the hot streak). What's that? You think looking at the next two weeks is too much? Well, Mitchel also looked at just the first day following the two-week hot streak. Believe it or not, the hot hitters batted .291 on that day ... exactly the same as their average in the previous season.
As Mitchel writes, "So there was not a significant difference between their expected batting average and their actual batting average, strongly suggesting that their two-week "hot" periods were nothing more than random statistical variations. In more vernacular terms, when a batter steps up to the plate, the only predictors of his likely performance for that AB, or any subsequent
AB's, are his lifetime statistics, adjusted for any relevant factors, such as the opposing pitcher, weather, ballpark, age, injury, et cetera."
Mitchel also ran the same study for "cold" hitters, the group that batted less than .200 over a two-week period. His results were the same. No effect. He also looked at hot and cold hitters over one-week periods. Same results. No effect.
Wait, I know what you're thinking: "Well, maybe we don't find statistically significant streaks if we're looking at the entire population, but couldn't there be at least a few hitters who tend toward streakiness?"
Let's think about that. If some are indeed streaky, yet the overall numbers are a wash, then that means some other hitters have to make up for it. And does anybody really think that there are baseball players whose chances of hitting safely go down with each hit they collect? It doesn't compute, does it?
I know all this is counter-intuitive, and I feel bad about that, I really do. But getting back to what brought all this on, Nomar Garciaparra isn't more likely to hit a home run because he hit one 30 minutes ago, and Nomar Garciaparra isn't more likely to get a hit against the Indians in October because he hit .451 against the Indians during the regular season. This failure to understand simple laws of probability might have cost Cleveland a trip to the World Series.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 14
Bobby Cox's use of his starters as relievers continues to fascinate. With John Smoltz saving Game 2 against the Mets, Atlanta's top three starters -- Greg Maddux, Kevin Millwood, Smoltz -- have all come out of the bullpen in the Braves' first six postseason games.
How rare is this? Well, many of you might remember that in the 1988 NLCS, the amazing Orel Hershiser retired Kevin McReynolds in the bottom of the 12th in Game 4, thus escaping a bases-loaded jam and saving a 5-4 victory for the Dodgers over the Mets. Well, it would be 10 years before another starting pitcher would record a postseason save. Almost exactly a year ago, Maddux pitched a perfect ninth to preserve Atlanta's 7-6 lead over the Padres in Game 5 of the NLCS.
And in 1999, first Millwood and now Smoltz have recorded postseason saves. So, to sum up: in the last 11 seasons, including this one, three regular starters have earned postseason saves, and all three were Braves.
It is my strong belief that most good starting pitchers are capable of being good relief pitchers. Not all of them. But most. We probably won't see Tom Glavine warming up in the pen, because historically he has struggled in his first inning of work.
What makes this all the more interesting is that the Atlanta bullpen was a big plus in 1999. Braves relievers combined for a 3.58 ERA, second only to Cincinnati (3.36) in the National League. Braves relievers went 33-14 for a .702 winning percentage, easily the best in the National League. You look at these two pitchers, knowing nothing but these stats, and who is better?
W-L ERA K/9
Abel Baker 7-3 2.82 8.6
Charlie Delta 11-8 3.19 7.5
Abel Baker is actually Kevin McGlinchy and Charlie Delta is John Smoltz. From these numbers, McGlinchy looks like a slightly better pitcher. But he's not, and we all know that he's not. First of all, I cheated a little bit by not including walks in the evaluation. McGlinchy's walked 30 hitters in 70 innings, Smoltz only 40 in 186 innings. (By the way, Smoltz has become an outstanding control pitcher and, not coincidentally, one of my favorites.) And second, if John Smoltz had the luxury of throwing just an inning at a time here and there, you can bet his strikeout rate would be higher and his ERA would be lower.
So the benefits of using your starters in relief are obvious. One, it's that many more innings that your best pitchers actually pitch. And two, if you're willing to use your starter (or starters) out of the bullpen, you can carry an extra position player. Or two. While the Mets are carrying 11 pitchers right now, the Braves are carrying only nine. (Unfortunately, Cox is using one of those "extra" roster spots on a third catcher, but that's another column.)
The downside? Assuming your starters are comfortable with their new task, I can see only one. It's possible that your relievers -- Kevin McGlinchy and your Russ Springer -- might have their confidence damaged. But it's the manager's job to evaluate this part of the game, and I believe that Bobby Cox has as good a handle on his team's psyche as any manager in the game. And while I don't like a lot of his in-game moves, especially his love affair with the intentional walk, I do think his use of starters as relievers is exceptionally creative and daring, if not brilliant.
Over to the American League ...
I'm sure that nearly all of you saw the Yankees beat the Red Sox -- you knew the Sox were in trouble the minute Rod Beck stepped onto the field -- so I'd like to add just a few words on Trot Nixon's hilarious catch in the bottom of the sixth. As you'll remember, Tino Martinez lifted a high fly into short right field. Second baseman Jose Offerman and right fielder Nixon converged, but Offerman peeled off after initially calling for the ball. Nixon had been watching the ball, but at the last second he focused on Offerman. When he realized Offerman wasn't going to make the play, Nixon had the presence of instinct to stick his glove out. And like manna from heaven, the ball dropped into it.
Joe Buck and Tim McCarver, assisted by a variety of great camera angles, went on and on about how lucky Nixon was. Buck even evoked that tiresome Curse of the Bambino ("the Bambino must have been asleep"). And to be sure, Nixon was lucky. But let's not forget that when you're one of the world's finest athletes, you're going to make a lot of plays. Nixon has caught thousands and thousands of fly balls in his life, which had more than a little to do with him making this particular play.
Nixon made another great play in the bottom of the seventh, when his laser throw home was dropped by Jason Varitek. On the throw, Nixon got completely airborne after the release, then tumbled into a somersault. Is this something relatively new? The first outfielder I noticed doing that was Jim Edmonds when he first came to the majors, but I've got a hard time believing that Edmonds actually invented the technique.
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 15
Rather than blame Boston's latest one-run loss on a curse, let's look at some of the facts: True, the Red Sox didn't catch many breaks Thursday night. Paul O'Neill's go-ahead RBI was a little gork that fell in left center. Two different Boston players banged baseballs off the very top of the right-field wall, inches short of home runs.
But sometimes you have to make your breaks, and the Sox didn't do much of that. Those near-homers? The first came in the top of the second with one out, and resulted in a triple for Jason Varitek. He didn't score. The second came in the top of the eighth with nobody out, and resulted in a double for Troy O'Leary. He didn't score, either.
That eighth inning was fascinating, and is worth a bit of armchair analysis.
O'Leary led off with a double against left-hander Mike Stanton, who had just entered the game. Comment: This one missed clearing the fence by perhaps two inches, leading Joe Buck to say, "I know it's annoying and repetitive, but this will lead some to recall The Curse." Gee, Joe, if it's annoying and repetitive, then why bring it up?)
Right-hander Jeff Nelson replaced Stanton, and promptly plunked Mike Stanley on the wrist. Damon Buford pinch-ran for Stanley. Comment: Stanley is slow, Buford is fast.
Switch-hitting Jason Varitek laid down a sacrifice, the runners moving to second and third. Comment: I don't like the sacrifice, especially when you have the platoon advantage, and a power hitter at the plate. But right or wrong, it's the standard move, so let's not belabor it here.
Lefty-hitting Scott Hatteberg pinch-hit for righty Darren Lewis. Strangely, Joe Torre let Nelson throw a ball to Hatteberg before summoning southpaw Allen Watson from the pen. Comment: Why let Nelson throw a single pitch to Hatteberg? You got me. I've scanned the Internet editions of all the newspapers, and I've yet to see an explanation. Only thing I can figure is that things were happening so fast, Watson just wasn't quite ready when Hatteberg first stepped to the plate.
Williams countered by having right-handed-hitting Lou Merloni hit for Hatteberg with the count one-and-oh. Torre ordered an intentional walk to load the bases. Comment: You know how I feel about this particular move.
Right-handed-hitting Butch Huskey then hit for left-handed-hitting Trot Nixon.
Joe Torre replaced Watson with righty Ramiro Mendoza.
Williams sent in Donnie Sadler to run for Merloni at first base. Comment: I didn't quite understand this one at first. Yes, Sadler is a lot faster than Merloni, but the important runners are the ones on second and third. Merloni's going to score on most doubles, and the marginal gain from having a faster runner at first base is more than balanced, in my opinion, by losing the last non-pitcher on your roster. But someone pointed out that because Williams had used all his outfielders, either Sadler or Merloni was going to have to play the outfield in the bottom of the eighth. And Sadler was the obvious choice.
And that was all the moves. The Red Sox were out of players, and Torre had the guy he wanted on the mound. Mendoza struck out Huskey, and made him look bad in the process. Switch-hitter Jose Offerman had a decent at-bat, but flied out to medium center field.
Should Williams have emptied his bench like he did? Pinch-running Sadler was probably overkill, but when you've got a chance to put runs on the board late in the game, you've got to do what you can. As it turned out, the Red Sox lost their DH because, with Stanley out of the game, Williams shifted Brian Daubach from DH to first base. This move was probably the worst that Williams made, because Huskey has a fair amount of experience at first base, and he can't be that much worse than Daubach. Had the Red Sox managed to tie the game in the ninth, then held the Yanks in the bottom of the frame, an unfortunate Boston hurler would have been forced to hit. And had that happened, Jimy Williams would've heard about it for a long, long time.
But if you really want to second-guess Williams, you only have go back to the seventh inning, which Ramon Martinez started. Martinez hasn't thrown more than 100 pitches in a game all year, but in this particular game he wound up throwing 120. Entering the seventh, he'd thrown 105 pitches and, given Martinez' recent history, that worried me.
It was a fascinating, well-played game. But in the end, it came down to Boston's performance in clutch situations. And with runners in scoring position, they collected one hit in 13 at-bats.
MONDAY, OCTOBER 18
People are wondering why Bobby Cox called on Kevin McGlinchy, and not Kevin Millwood, to close out the Mets in the bottom of the 15th inning. It's a good and fair question, but it's also a little surprising, given that no other manager in the game would even consider using his best starter in such a situation.
Of course, Millwood and John Smoltz have both recorded saves this postseason. However, the situations weren't exactly the same. Smoltz pitched a perfect ninth to save Game 2 of the NLCS, but his next start was still three days away, in Game 4. Millwood's save came in Game 3 of the Division Series, five days before his next scheduled start, in Game 2 of the NLCS.
This time, by contrast, Millwood is scheduled to start Tuesday night against the Mets. So it's my guess -- I've not found any quotes on this -- that Cox simply decided that until a true emergency came along, he wasn't going to use Millwood just two days before his next start. And since Cox and Leo Mazzone presumably know more about what their pitchers can do than we do, I'm inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt ... about this, at least. I would like to question another of Cox's moves, but let's wait until later in the column for that.
Comparisons have been drawn between Robin Ventura's game-winner last night and a similar blast by Chris Chambliss, 23 years ago in the ALCS. However, there are two huge differences between the two home runs. First, Ventura's run didn't mean anything, while Chambliss was leading off the bottom of the ninth, hence he had to score to win the game. Second, while happy fans prevented Chambliss from rounding the bases, it was happy teammates that prevented Ventura from touching home plate.
Rule 4.09(B) allows the run to score "if fans rush onto the field and physically prevent the runner from touching home plate ..." But since it was Todd Pratt who prevented Ventura from running around the bases, Ventura can be credited only with a single, pursuant to the rules. Also, if your game-winning hit is not a home run, then you can only get credit for as many bases as are necessary to win the game. In this case, since the game was tied and the bases were loaded, Ventura needed only a single. So that's what he gets, along with an unlikely-to-be-forgotten place in our mental history books.
Over in the ALCS
The Yankees destroyed the Red Sox 9-2, yet many fans will remember the game for a poor call on the basepaths that cost the Sox a baserunner and an out. As you probably saw, in the bottom of the eighth Tim Tschida ruled that Chuck Knoblauch tagged out Jose Offerman, even though Knoblauch's glove didn't come within six inches of Offerman. Tschida blew the call, but his explanation was lucid enough. Given his angle, he simply didn't have a good look at the play. Now, you can argue that (1) he could have been in a better position to make the call, and/or (2) even if he had a bad angle, there's no excuse for missing something that badly.
So yeah, Tschida blew it. But he's human. Baseball players and baseball writers blow it sometimes, too. And at least this time, it's quite possible that something good will come of this. Tschida's mistake, coming so quickly on the heels of Rick Reed's flub in Game 1 of the ALCS, should lead to a policy dictating that umpires ask for help in such situations. Because it's quite possible that, if umpires worked together like officials do in the NBA and the NFL, both these calls would have been reversed.
Now, about that play at first base in the bottom of the ninth, where Dale Scott called Nomar Garciaparra out, even though (replays showed) Garciaparra beat the throw by an eyelash. A lot of people don't realize this, but a first-base umpire can't see the throw hit the glove and the runner's foot hit the bag. The two events are too close in time and too far apart in space. As longtime AL umpire Joe Brinkman once wrote, "The only way to make a call at first base is to watch the bag and listen for the sound of the ball hitting the glove of the fielder at first base."
Usually, that works. But when you've got a postseason crowd screaming its collective lungs out, quite often the umpire simply cannot hear the ball hit the glove. When that happens, he's forced to rely on his instincts or, perhaps more precisely, his experience. Usually that works. But when the play is extremely close, as this one was, it's a crap shoot. I would argue that the greatest umpire in the world will miss that call a third of the time. So if there's a single situation that could use instant replay, it's this one, a hair-close play at first base in a postseason game.
OK, now a few notes on the latest in questionable postseason managerial decisions ...
Why Bobby Cox is carrying three catchers on his roster? Jorge Fabregas has made one appearance in the postseason, and that came Sunday when he pinch-hit for the pitcher in the 13th inning. In fact, Cox could have considered using John Smoltz instead. Smoltz hit .274 this year, Fabregas .199.
Cox is also carrying a third shortstop (Ozzie Guillen) and a glorified pinch-runner (Otis Nixon). Now, it seems to me that what the Braves really need is a 10th pitcher and/or an extra bat, both of which might have been a big help in Game 5. I'm not a big Randall Simon fan, but the guy batted .317 and slugged .459 this year. Don't you think a guy like that might come in handy?
Why does Bobby Valentine continue to use Shawon Dunston in center field? Don't get me wrong, Dunston's a class act and he did a great job leading off the bottom of the 15th. But he doesn't have any more business out there than my grandma, and it says something negative about both Valentine and the organization every time Dunston's in center field.
Why didn't Joe Torre use a pinch-hitter for Chad Curtis in the top of the eighth, when the bases were loaded with two outs? Frankly, Curtis is a pretty awful player at this point, and probably wouldn't even be on the roster if he weren't making so much money.
Happily, this brings us back to something we discussed last week, that throw-and-somersault move that we saw Trot Nixon employ, and which I'm trying to trace back to its founder. I mentioned having seen Jim Edmonds do this, but a number of readers pointed out that Chad Curtis was a big practitioner, going back to his days with the Angels. In fact, I believe that Edmonds learned it from Curtis in Anaheim. Other readers mentioned Andy Van Slyke and Carl Yastrzemski, among others. But while I'm sure that Curtis didn't "invent" the technique, I suspect he might have been the first to make it a regular part of his act. What's more, a couple of readers suggested that the Yankees acquired Curtis mostly because George Steinbrenner loved the way Curtis threw the ball. And now Steinbrenner is signing big paychecks to watch Curtis sit on the bench.
I don't really have anything bad to say about Jimy Williams, except maybe that he shouldn't allow Rod Beck on the playing field until the game is officially over.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 19
Tying up a few loose ends from the ALCS ...
Yesterday I described Chad Curtis as a "pretty awful player." Well, that wasn't really fair. Chad Curtis is a better player than Darren Lewis, and Lewis played practically every day for a team that won 94 games. Curtis doesn't have any power, but he drew a ton of walks this year, 43 in about 240 plate appearances, and he posted a .398 on-base percentage.
This ALCS will likely be remembered for the two calls the umpires blew, both of them costing the Red Sox potential scoring chances with Nomar Garciaparra waiting to hit. But let us also remember that in the games they lost, the Sox were outscored 22-8. In the five ALCS games, the Sox were charged with 10 errors, the Yankees with five. Leave out their 13-1 blowout in Game 3, and the fact is that Boston was simply outplayed, missed calls or no missed calls. On the other hand, it's also true that with a few inches difference here and there, the Red Sox could be up three games to two. Baseball's a funny, frustrating game that way.
Watching the Red Sox in the ALCS, I kept thinking that they were short one left-handed bat, and this was particularly evident in Game 5. With Orlando Hernandez -- a tricky right-hander who's been absolute murder on right-handed hitters since he arrived in the majors -- going for the Yankees, Boston's lineup included right-handed hitters Mike Stanley and Darren Lewis, both of whom should be platoon players. (Actually, Lewis has showed no platoon differential over his career. Truth be told, he shouldn't be a platoon player, he should be a bench player, suitable primarily for late-inning defense.) Boston's shortcomings, all so apparent this last week, make the job Jimy Williams did all the more impressive, and he's certainly my Manager of the Year.
Fascinating shot from the top of the seventh last night. With one out, Derek Jeter's bat was exploded by a Derek Lowe fastball. The barrel end of the bat flew backward and hit plate umpire Dale Scott in the arm. But here's the interesting part. Jeter, before he took off for first base, looked back over his left shoulder ... why? To see if Scott was injured?
I have, over the years, spent more than a few column inches criticizing the Fox baseball broadcasts. But the broadcasts were significantly better this year, if only because the director restrained himself from those interminable close-ups of ballplayers' families that made watching the games last year so painful.
It really is amazing, this run of postseason success we've seen from Orlando Hernandez. Here's an updated version of the table Fox showed last night, all-time leaders in postseason ERA, minimum 30 innings:
Pitcher ERA
Mariano Rivera 0.42
Harry Brecheen 0.83
Babe Ruth 0.87
Sherry Smith 0.89
Sandy Koufax 0.95
Orlando Hernandez 0.97
Hernandez was No. 2 on this list until the eighth inning last night, when he gave up a solo home run to Jason Varitek.
Don't feel bad if you've never heard of Sherry Smith. He barely made the list, pitching 30.1 innings for the Dodgers in 1916 and 1920, and went 1-2 in three starts. Fox used 30 innings as their cutoff for inclusion, I suspect, because it gets not only Hernandez, but also Mariano Rivera and Babe Ruth into the graphic. As you might expect, raising the limit just a few innings drops most everybody from the leader board. Among pitchers with at least 50 postseason innings, only Sandy Koufax boasts an ERA below 1.00. Here's the top five on that list:
Pitcher Innings ERA
Sandy Koufax 57.0 0.95
C Mathewson 101.2 1.06
Eddie Plank 54.2 1.32
Orval Overall 51.1 1.58
George Earnshaw 62.2 1.58
It's no coincidence that four of these guys pitched in extremely pitcher-friendly eras. Mathewson, Plank and Overall pitched in the so-called Dead Ball Era, and Koufax pitched in the 1960s. Only George Earnshaw, who pitched in three straight World Series for the Philadelphia Athletics, beginning in 1929, faced lineups full of high-average hitters. Of course, Hernandez pitches in a high-offense era, make his ERA all the more impressive.
Can he keep it up? Well, I know he escaped from Cuba in a boat, but I don't know that "bravery" has much to do with his postseason success. He's a fine pitcher, and he's pitched brilliantly in a relatively limited number of innings. He should get more postseason chances, both this year and next, and if he's still in the company of Koufax and Mathewson after that, we can talk again.
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 20
Game 6. It began with the Mets' No. 1 starter unable to escape the first inning and it ended with the Mets' No. 2 starter unable to throw a strike. And in between, we witnessed some of the most incredible, improbable, exciting baseball we'll ever see.
One could, were one so inclined and if a format for such a thing existed, write 10,000 words on Game 6. It was that good. Unfortunately, I am limited to something less than 10,000 words, so I'm going to focus on just a few elements of the contest.
Bottom of the ninth ... perfect example of why I think the stolen base is overrated. You've all heard the good things about the running game. It puts pressure on the pitcher to throw fastballs, it gets a runner in scoring position ... of course, nobody ever talks about the big negative, which is that if the runner gets thrown out you've just lost a baserunner. And in this game, we saw another negative. With two outs in the bottom of the ninth, Chipper Jones was semi-intentionally walked by Armando Benitez.
That brought up Brian Jordan, just the man you want to see in this situation if you're a Braves fan, even if does bat right-handed. Jordan's got power, and it's not hard to envision an RBI double or even a walk-off homer.
Jones swiped second on a pitch that put the count at 0-2. Analyst Joe Morgan approvingly said, "You have to give Brian Jordan a lot of credit there. He takes this pitch to give Chipper Jones a chance to get into scoring position."
Is that extra base worth getting completely upside down in the count? In 1998, major league hitters batted .185 when they had two strikes. I don't have any data for batting averages after the count is oh-and-two, but you have to think it's even worse than .185, right?
I'm not saying that Chipper shouldn't have been running in that situation, just that if you're already down a strike, you don't take a pitch down the middle of the plate, no matter what the runner is doing. Especially if you've got your cleanup hitter at bat.
Continuing with the Joe Morgan theme, in the 10th he astutely noted that both John Rocker and Armando Benitez appeared somewhat diminished in their second innings of work. Curious about this, I went back and checked the tape. In the ninth, both Rocker's and Benitez's fastballs were routinely getting past 95 miles per hour.
In Rocker's second inning of work, he threw 12 fastballs (for which NBC displayed the speed), averaging 93.3 miles per hour.
In Benitez' second inning, he threw 16 fastballs, averaging 94.4 miles per hour.
Between the two of them, they threw 28 fastballs that averaged 94 miles per hour, and only three of those fastballs topped 95.
After Benitez' first pitch to Ryan Klesko in the bottom of the 10th, Morgan said, "This is Benitez's second inning of work, and that last fastball he threw didn't look like the same fastballs that he was throwing in the last inning."
Morgan continued with this theme for a few minutes, as Benitez eventually walked Klesko on five pitches, and he concluded with a particularly trenchant observation: "And remember, there's a stress factor here, too. These are tough innings that they're throwing. These are not easy innings. These are tough innings under a lot of pressure."
Moments later, Ozzie Guillen's game-tying single came against a 92-mph fastball.
So both teams' usually unhittable closers became quite hittable in the 10th, so on we went to the 11th. Russ Springer, finally allowed to pitch in a meaningful situation, set down the Mets in order. And that, of course, set up the drama in the bottom of the 11th. If there's been a running theme to my commentary this month, it's been that intentional walks often come back to bite you in the butt. I'll be the first to admit that, in this space, my analysis is sometimes simplistic, and I'll also admit that some occasions do call for putting a guy on base. But in Game 6, right or wrong, Bobby Valentine twice ordered an intentional walk to load the bases, and both times it cost him.
In the bottom of the sixth, with the Mets having clawed their way back into the game, the Braves had runners on second and third with one out. Valentine ordered the intentional walk to Brian Hunter, and two batters later Jose Hernandez singled in two runs.
And in the bottom of the 11th, with Gerald Williams on third base with one out, Valentine ordered the intentional walk to Chipper Jones. That one made sense. But then he intentionally walked Brian Jordan, too. That left Kenny Rogers in the awkward position of having to throw strikes to a right-handed hitter, and Rogers doesn't like to throw strikes to right-handed hitters.
It gets back to the same old thing. Brian Jordan drives in the winning run with a sacrifice fly, but so does Andruw Jones, so that's a wash. What you look at is Brian Jordan's batting average against lefties (.331) versus Andruw Jones' on-base percentage against lefties (.376), and it's obvious which one is higher. Jones used to swing at everything, but he's developed into a patient hitter, and actually finished second on the club this year with 76 walks.
But it's even worse than that, because as we've seen before, everybody's stats go up when the bases are loaded.
So the bases were loaded, and up stepped Andruw Jones. When the count was full, Morgan said, "This game has been such a great ballgame, you want it to end with another hero, and not a goat."
There is now, and always has been, a strange belief in some quarters that when a batter walks, it's simply due to his good fortune at having been standing there when the pitcher lost his control. Now, Joe Morgan was one of the most patient hitters in the history of the game, so he certainly knows better. But let history remember that in 1999, John Olerud walked 125 times, and his teammate Shawon Dunston walked twice (in about 35 percent as much playing time). Which is a roundabout way of saying that most of the time, it takes two to make four balls.
So while Kenny Rogers will indeed be anointed the sacrificial goat in this series, how about Andruw Jones as a hero? Leading off the bottom of the 10th, he took five pitches before singling up the middle on a full count. And in the 11th, Jones again worked the count full before taking the pitch that decided the game and the series.
Two hours after the game ended, a reader sent me an e-mail, wondering what it feels like "to be right" about intentional walks. Well, believe it or not, I took no pleasure from last night's outcome. First off, two failures of the intentional walk doesn't make me "right." And second, it's hard to take pleasure from something that leaves so many people feeling miserable, chief among them Kenny Rogers.
If you ask me, baseball players earn every penny of their huge paychecks. And as much fun as ballplayers seem to have, right now I wouldn't trade places with Rogers for all the money in Ted Turner's bank account. And while it was a wonderfully entertaining contest, at the end I was left to reflect on the capricious nature of the game, a "game" that ends with a tragic figure walking off the field, perhaps wishing that a hole would open in the earth and swallow him up.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21
Attendance was down in 1999 ... but ever so slightly, from 29,054 to 28,986 per game. In case you're counting, that's a 0.2 percent drop, not even really worth mentioning. And if you're looking for reasons, they're not hard to find. One, the home-run hype wasn't nearly as big in 1999. And two, the two most recent expansion teams fell off substantially. (Granted, the Diamondbacks should probably be concerned, given that they lost about 7,500 customers per game despite a season which saw them win 100 games.) Presumably, attendance will be up somewhat next year, given the new ballparks in Detroit, Houston and San Francisco and a full season of Safeco Field in Seattle.
As my colleague Sean Lahman points out, more than 600 million people attended major league games in the 1990s, and that's more people than attended all major league games from 1900 through 1959! Yes, I know that there are many reasons for this, unrelated to the public's insatiable thirst for baseball. But it's still a fun fact.
The furor seems to have subsided, but some will always remember Game 4 of the 1999 ALCS for the ninth-inning shenanigans that led to the umpires suspending play for eight minutes, and pulling the teams off the field. The next night, Fox reporters Steve Lyons and/or Keith Olbermann described the situation as "a near-riot," and at least one member of the Boston media called it "a national disgrace."
Tuesday, the Boston Globe's Will McDonough made a few phone calls to the people who would know if there had been a "near-riot."
McDonough called the Red Sox groundskeeper Joe Mooney, who told him, "My crew cleaned the entire field after the game. All we found was paper cups and empty plastic bottles. Those soda bottles. There was nothing else."
McDonough called Dr. Mike Foley, who runs the first-aid room at Fenway Park. Doc Foley told McDonough, "No one was hurt. I stayed in the medical room for two hours after the ballgame and we didn't have one person show up. I can't understand all the reaction to this ... What happened here Sunday night was so overblown it's not even funny."
McDonough called the Boston Police Department and talked to Sergeant Margot Hill, who told him, "There were no arrests inside Fenway Park. Over the course of this series about 30 people have been arrested. All of those arrests were outside of the park for reselling tickets or selling illegal merchandise. There were no arrests at the park for this game, and I'm not aware that anyone even was evicted."
McDonough called Red Sox public relations director Kevin Shea, who told him that no players or umpires were hit by flying objects or anything else.
So why did crew chief Al Clark stop the game? McDonough thinks it's because Clark wanted to deflect attention away from the umpires' poor performance. Well, call me naive, but I think Clark actually was worried about the safety of all parties. The fact is that objects were being launched toward the field of play, and while it's true that those objects were relatively harmless, it only takes one flashlight battery to cause injury.
No, I think the fault lies not with Al Clark, but with the Red Sox fans and with the reporters who blew things out of proportion. Obviously, the fans shouldn't have been throwing anything, relatively harmless or not. But a near-riot? The more I think about it, the more I think there's no such thing (or if there is, a bunch of talking heads wouldn't know). Either you've got a riot -- "a wild or turbulent disturbance created by a large number of people" -- or you don't.
It kind of got lost in all the hullabaloo over the weekend, but now that we've got a breather, I'd like to revisit an odd situation from Game 5 of the NLCS.
In the top of the seventh, Otis Nixon was on first base with one out, the score still tied at two apiece. Bobby Valentine went to his bullpen, replacing Orel Hershiser with right-hander Turk Wendell. Wendell struck out Chipper Jones, with Nixon stealing second base on strike three.
That brought up Brian Jordan, and Wendell got behind in the count, two balls and no strikes. With that, Valentine summoned left-hander Dennis Cook, who then completed the walk ... intentionally.
This maneuver resulted in something quite strange. In the record books, Wendell gets charged with the walk -- as the rules dictate -- but somehow, Cook is given "credit" for the intentional walk. At least, that's what happened in the box score. I have scoured the rulebook looking for the rationale for this, with no luck.
Why did Valentine bother bringing in Cook to throw two balls on purpose? Because with left-handed-hitting Ryan Klesko due up next, Valentine figured Bobby Cox would employ right-handed-hitting Brian Hunter to pinch hit.
Indeed, that's exactly what Cox did. And since Cook had already faced a batter (Jordan), Valentine was free to remove him in favor of a right-handed pitcher (Pat Mahomes). As it happened, all of Valentine's maneuverings didn't exactly "work," as Mahomes walked Hunter. But Andruw Jones flied out to end the inning. Of course, using Cook for half a hitter would eventually leave Valentine short-handed when the game went to perpetual innings. The Mets won, though, so all was forgiven.
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 22
First off, a few days ago I suggested that Tom Glavine should be bumped until Game 4, but after reading Bobby Cox's reasons for starting Glavine in the Series opener, I have to agree with him. If Glavine didn't start until Game 4, he'd have had 12 days off since his last start, and that's probably not good for anybody with a healthy arm. Another point: Assuming the Braves carry only nine pitchers, they might well need to use John Smoltz in relief again. And now that he's scheduled for just one start, he'll be available for relief duties in Games 1 and 2, and a possible Game 7.
OK, how do the Yankees and Braves match up? First, let's look at the hitting. The Yankees finished third in the American League in scoring, with 5.56 runs per game. That was about seven percent better than the league average. The Braves finished seventh in the National League in scoring, with 5.19 runs per game. Seventh doesn't sound good, but the Braves were only 32 runs behind the No. 3 Giants, and those 5.19 runs were about four percent better than league average. Edge to the Yankees, but it's not a big edge.
Next, the pitching. The Braves ranked first in the National League with a 3.65 earned-run average, the Yankees second (behind the Red Sox) in the AL with a 4.16 mark. Breaking these down further, Atlanta's starters topped the NL with a 3.67 ERA, and the Yankees were again No. 2 with a 4.33 mark.
But of course, those numbers include each teams' fifth starters, and you're not going to see fifth starters throwing many innings in October (whither Hideki Irabu?). What's more, since at least one of the regular starters will only start one game, we can adjust for this, too.
The Braves have set their rotation for the World Series, and it goes Glavine, Maddux, Millwood, Smoltz, then back to the beginning. If we assume a seven-game World Series, and everybody gets two starts except Smoltz, we arrive at a new "weighted" ERA for the starters of 3.36. For the sake of this comparison, I've included all the postseason stats, too.
Repeating this exercise for the Yankees -- their rotation is Hernandez, Pettitte, Cone, Clemens -- and we get a 4.00 mark for their starters. So that's a 64-point difference between Atlanta's and New York's starters. But over the last four seasons, the DH has meant (approximately) an extra 0.50 in ERA per game in the American League. So the Braves' Series starters have only a slight edge over the Yankees' top four, an edge which essentially matches the Yankees' edge in run production.
But these stats are all about the season to this point. What can we say about the specific matchup, Yankees versus Braves?
Cox says he probably will use Jose Hernandez as the Braves' designated hitter for Game 3, when Andy Pettitte starts, and Keith Lockhart and/or Ozzie Guillen against the right-handers in Games 4 and 5. You can argue about the home-field advantage, but it's fortunate for Atlanta that they've only got three games in New York
vs. LHP AB OPS
Chili Davis 146 .778
Jose Hernandez 168 .864
Hmmm, that doesn't look like a disadvantage to me. In fact, (1) Hernandez might be one of the better National League designated hitters in recent memory, at least against lefties, and (2) maybe Chili Davis should be bumped for Jim Leyritz. But that's only one game for each team. What about when the righties pitch in New York?
vs. RHP AB OPS
D. Strawberry 43 .979
Keith Lockhart 149 .668
Ozzie Guillen 182 .591
If Hernandez is one of the better National League DH's, then Lockhart/Guillen would certainly be one of the worst. As for Strawberry ... well, he doesn't have nearly enough at-bats this year for us to get a good read on his abilities. But you've seen his swing. It looks just as devastating as ever.
The key to the Series? I believe it's going to be Orlando Hernandez, who starts Games 1 and 5 for the Yankees. Hernandez is much tougher against right-handed hitters than left-handed hitters. Here are his numbers the ast two seasons (not including postseason):
El Duque OPS vs RH OPS vs LH
1998 .468 .779
1999 .594 .794
Yet Cox is probably going to send out a lineup that includes all right-handed hitters except for Larry Jones, Ryan Klesko and Walt Weiss. David Cone, who in terms of pitching style is somewhat similar to El Duque, is also very tough on right-handed hitters, holding them to a .622 OPS this year and a .599 OPS last year.
It seems obvious to me that the Braves need Randall Simon on the roster, and when Hernandez and perhaps Cone are starting, Simon should be at first base or DH, and Greg Myers should be behind the plate. It's only seven games, and anything can happen. But if we're trying to identify one factor that will influence the outcome of the 1999 World Series, it's Atlanta's lack of potent left-handed hitting in the (projected) lineup. And for that reason, I have to pick the Yankees in six or seven games.
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 24
Another postseason start, another postseason loss for Greg Maddux, the Smartest Pitcher Who Ever Lived. He now sports a 10-10 lifetime record in the postseason. Early in last night's game, Bob Costas noted that "Maddux & has had his problems in the postseason, going just 10-9." (That's not an exact quote, but it's close.)
What Costas didn't mention is that while Maddux's postseason record is nothing special, in some respects, Maddux has been almost exactly as effective in the postseason as in the regular season. Since joining the Braves in 1993, Maddux's postseason ERA is 2.52. His composite regular-season ERA in Atlanta's postseason seasons -- 1993, and 1995 through 1999 -- is 2.45. When you consider the tougher competition and the greater pressures in October, that 2.52 postseason ERA is quite impressive.
Maddux is averaging just a shade over seven innings in his postseason starts since 1993. He also averaged just a shade over seven innings in his regular-season starts in the Braves' postseason seasons.
But if we dig a little deeper, we find that Maddux hasn't pitched quite as well in the postseason as his ERA might indicate. For one thing, his control hasn't been nearly as good in October. And for another, he's given up more unearned runs in the postseason than usual.
Maddux W-L ERA BB/9 Runs/9
Regular 110-45 2.45 1.30 2.81
Post 10- 9 2.52 1.96 3.28
In 20 postseason starts with Atlanta, Maddux has been charged with 12 unearned runs in 143 innings, which is a lot for him. However, it really can't be argued that those unearned runs have been particularly damaging, aside from one game. In Game 2 of the 1996 NLCS, Maddux allowed eight runs, five of them unearned. That was the first time he'd permitted as many as eight runs while wearing a Braves uniform. Maddux lost that game to the Cardinals, 8-3.
He permitted two unearned runs in Game 1 of the 1995 World Series and two more in Game 2 of the 1996 Division Series, but won both starts. And in last night's game, only two of the four runs Maddux allowed were earned, but since the Braves only scored once, you can't really blame the defeat on the defense.
Of greater concern, perhaps, is a relative lack of control in the postseason, when his walk rate has been essentially 50 percent higher. Just this year, he walked four Astros in a Division Series game, and last night he walked three Yankees.
I can't help but wonder if Maddux, like Bobby Cox (in a different way), doesn't try to be a little too cute in October.
Also, it's true that Maddux has never pitched a truly outstanding game in the postseason. His highest postseason Game Score was 83, back in the 1995 World Series. He's never thrown a shutout in 22 postseason starts (including the two with the Cubs in 1989). Since 1993 (not including 1994), Maddux has completed almost exactly 20 percent of his regular-season starts. Over that same period, he's completed just five percent of his postseason starts (one of 20).
Too cute or not too cute, paucity of brilliant performances or not, we're really just messing around at the margins. Because -- and call me an apologist for Greg Maddux if you wish -- but it seems obvious to this scribe that Maddux's real problem is simply a lack of support. In his first postseason start for the Braves, back in 1993, Maddux was blessed with 14 runs. Since then, however, he simply hasn't had much help, as the Braves have scored more than four runs only three times in his 19 starts. In his nine losses, the Braves have scored 2.1 runs per game. In his nine wins (not counting that 1993 blowout), the Braves have scored 3.9 runs per game.
MONDAY, OCTOBER 25
We'll get to the Team of the Century in a bit. But first, the penultimate World Series of the century ... I have a hard time faulting Bobby Cox for the Braves' Game 2 loss. With replacement infielders Ozzie Guillen and Keith Lockhart both making errors last night, the second-guessers -- and yes, I've been known to indulge in this activity -- are wondering why Cox would bench starters Walt Weiss and Bret Boone. Well, here's why ... Weiss and Boone can't hit right-handed pitching.
Actually, this year Weiss didn't really hit any kind of pitching. But his batting average against right-handers was .235, and while he did draw a fair number of walks, it was only enough to get his on-base percentage up to .322. Boone's OBP against righties in 1999 was .299, an atrocious figure for anybody, let alone a No. 2 hitter.
Now, throw in the fact that David Cone is particularly tough on right-handed hitters, and it seems like a fairly sensible move to get a couple of lefty hitters in the lineup. Unfortunately, the Braves don't really have any. Hitters, that is. Guillen and Lockhart were not good this year, whether facing southpaws or northpaws. And that's the problem in a nutshell.
It's not that Bobby Cox used the wrong guys in the lineup, it's that he didn't have any right guys to use. The Braves simply don't match up well against right-handed pitchers like El Duque and Cone. And I guarantee, if Cox had run his regular lineup out there last night and they'd lost, the second-guessers would be saying, "Geez, that stupid Cox, why doesn't he shake things up a little bit?"
Against my better judgment, and because I had guests, I tuned into the All-Century team ceremonies prior to Game 2. Sometimes I wonder, why do we watch things like this? Do I need to see the festivities to know that Henry Aaron is one of the greatest players of the century? Don't we really watch because we want to know how the old geezers are holding up? Anyway, a few observations on the introductions:
Talk about holding up, does Bob Gibson look incredible, or what? The guy turns 64 in a couple of weeks, and he looks younger than Otis Nixon.
Roger Clemens didn't look incredible, exactly, but his ostentatiously pinstriped suit was a neat touch.
It was nice to see Ted Williams wearing a Red Sox cap, after that sad display before the All-Star Game, wherein he wore a hat advertising his son's web site. It's certainly possible that we'll never see Williams in such a situation again, and I'm glad we'll remember him wearing Boston blue.
Of course, prior to the introduction of Aaron, Pete Rose drew the largest ovation from the crowd. Rose's situation is interesting. Bud Selig, in his infinite wisdom, decided that Rose could join the big festivities before Game 2, even though he's been banned from the game. The funny thing is, if Rose weren't banned, he quite likely wouldn't have been invited to the ceremony anyway, because he wouldn't have been voted to the All-Century team. Here are the No. 7 through No. 12 finishers in the outfield balloting:
7. Ty Cobb, 777,056
8. Ken Griffey Jr., 645,389
9. Pete Rose, 629,742
10. Roberto Clemente, 582,937
11. Stan Musial, 571,279
12. Joe Jackson, 326,415
Ty Cobb and Junior Griffey, Nos. 7 and 8 in the balloting, are separated by roughly 125,000 votes. Griffey and Stan the Man, Nos. 8 and 11, are separated by roughly 75,000 votes. It seems to me that within this cluster of four outfielders, it wouldn't have taken much to knock one guy out of the top 10 and put another in. I'll bet you my autographed copy of the Dowd Report that if Pete Rose had been elected to the Hall of Fame back in 1992, he would have finished 11th in the All-Century balloting behind Clemente and Musial. (In the same vein, would Joe Jackson have finished 12th if he were in the Hall?)
Oh, about the rest of the All-Century team:
At catcher, it's hard to argue with Johnny Bench and Yogi Berra. Mickey Cochrane and Roy Campanella would also have been fine choices, but no complaints here.
Lou Gehrig and Mark McGwire are both worthy first basemen. I voted for Jimmie Foxx rather than McGwire, but it's certainly possible that in a few years McGwire will truly deserve his spot.
Rogers Hornsby was the obvious pick at second base, I suppose, and in fact I'm a little surprised that he did so well in the voting. I voted for Joe Morgan rather than Jackie Robinson, but of course Robinson has the name. Plus, he was a great player in his own right.
Cal Ripken deserves his spot. Ernie Banks was a great player. As I've written before, he played 134 more games at first base than shortstop, and for that reason I couldn't vote for him. I voted for Ripken and Honus Wagner, and Wagner was added by the special panel.
Mike Schmidt is quite obviously the greatest third baseman of all time. Brooks Robinson is certainly an arguable choice, but the media's spent much of the last 30 years brainwashing the public regarding Robinson's value, so it's not surprising that he got voted to the team. Eddie Mathews or George Brett would have been better choices.
Now, the outfield. A lot of you have been wondering, as I have, why the ballot called for the selection of nine outfielders and six pitchers. After all, every other non-pitcher position gets two players, but in essence each outfield position gets three players. Well, I suspect that the keepers of the team just couldn't stand the thought of Mickey Mantle or Ty Cobb or Ken Griffey not making it. After all, a large percentage of the most famous players in baseball history were and are outfielders.
Of course, with the additions of Stan Musial, Lefty Grove, Christy Mathewson and Warren Spahn, the team makes at least a little more sense, with 10 outfielders and nine pitchers. Still, there are some deserving outfielders who didn't make the cut, among them Frank Robinson, Barry Bonds and Rickey Henderson. The only real quibble I have is with Rose, who is not one of the 10 greatest outfielders who ever lived. Barry Bonds should have gotten that spot.
With the astute additions of the special panel, the pitching staff looks pretty good. Frankly, Gibson and Koufax are both overrated, because (1) they pitched well in October, and (2) they pitched in the pitcher-friendly 1960s. We've gone over all this before, so I won't belabor the point. Both were fantastic pitchers, and they certainly don't disgrace the All-Century team. Nolan Ryan doesn't exactly disgrace the team, either, but his spot would be better taken by Greg Maddux or Tom Seaver.
It was, methinks, wise of Major League Baseball to appoint the "special panel," because an All-Century team without Honus Wagner would have been a joke. It's just too bad the special panel wasn't allowed to deselect a few unworthies.
P.S. Don't worry, I'll deal with Jim Gray tomorrow.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 26
I'm not going to go into a lot of specifics here, but I do believe that Pete Rose bet on baseball, and further, I believe that he bet on games involving his own team. I also believe that Pete Rose is a bad guy. He's a womanizer, a convicted tax cheat and a lousy father. If he was your next-door neighbor, you'd run to the hardware store and install a few extra locks on your door.
Yet people love him, I suppose because (in no particular order) he's white, he always hustled, and there's a perception that he's been horribly mistreated by Major League Baseball. All that said, while I -- sitting on my couch Sunday night -- did not join in the applause for Pete Rose, neither did I begrudge him his moment in the spotlight. And when Jim Gray badgered and pestered and tortured Rose on national television, I was sickened and repulsed and disgusted.
Gray turned what had been, just a few moments before, a joyous occasion, into something that made most of us want to turn off the TV and run to the nearest toilet, porthole or airsickness bag. It is easy, and right, to blame Gray for this disgrace. But there's plenty more blame to go around. Gray is an attack dog with a microphone, true, but he's also a well-trained attack dog. His masters tell him who to bite, and then once he gets the victim's neck in his mouth, he clamps down with the incisors, just like he's supposed to.
Everything on television is scripted, from David Letterman's apparently spontaneous quips to that awful banter between local news anchors to the ridiculous and sometimes offensive questions Gray apparently feels compelled to ask. Would the world be a better place if Gray were fired first thing Monday morning? Well, yes. Slightly. But his boss should get the ax, too, just as surely as Randy Smith should have been out the door in Detroit, right behind (or in front of) Larry Parrish.
Monday, Gray portrayed himself as a facilitator, a friend of Pete Rose. According to Gray, Rose just needs to come clean about everything, and he (Gray) was simply trying to help. Yeah, sure. Did anyone employed by NBC really think that Rose would pick this, of all occasions, to finally blurt out his Grand Confession? I've watched many episodes of "Perry Mason." And Jim Gray, you're no Perry Mason. No, that "interview" wasn't about giving Rose a chance to help himself. It was about a lousy "reporter" trying to grab some attention, and about a cynical TV network that lets him get away with it.
All right, enough about Jim Gray. With any luck, by this time next year he'll be doing the weekend sports for a UPN affiliate in Nowheresville, Nebraska. Let's move on to the "Pete Rose issue," which I have assiduously avoided for the last four years. But I've spent a good part of the last 24 hours studying up, and I'm ready to weigh in.
First of all, many commentators argue that if only Rose would admit that he did bet on the Reds, then eventually all will be forgiven. Uh, did I miss something? Major League Rule 21, posted in the clubhouse of every major-league team, is very clear on this:
(d) BETTING ON BALL GAMES. Any player, umpire, or club official or employee, who shall bet any sum whatsoever upon any baseball game in connection with which the bettor has no duty to perform shall be declared ineligible for one year.
Any player, umpire, or club or league official or employee, who shall bet any sum whatsoever upon any baseball game in connection with which the bettor has a duty to perform shall be declared permanently ineligible.
Permanently ineligible.
Now, I know a lot of you are wondering, "What's wrong with betting on your own team?" Plenty. If you've bet on your own team, you might leave that relief pitcher in the game for an extra inning, even though that might leave him with a sore arm for the next week. If you've bet on your own team, you might play the veterans instead of the prospects. If you've bet on your own team ... well, you get the point. There are many insidious ways that gambling can affect the integrity of the game, and that's exactly why Rule 21(d) exists.
So it seems to me that if Rose did bet on the Reds, his Hall of Fame case should be closed. Bill James, in his book "The Politics of Glory," wrote what I believe is the last word on this particular question:
... Should Pete Rose be in the Hall of Fame, even though he is banned from baseball?
And the answer to that is that it's a silly thing even to talk about. The Hall of Fame is baseball's highest honor. Does it make sense to say that Pete Rose is ineligible to put on a uniform for any reason, that he is ineligible to play, or manage, or coach, or broadcast, that he is ineligible to sit in the press box or step on the field, that he may not work in baseball as a batboy, an equipment manager or a men's room attendant -- but that he does remain eligible for baseball's highest honor? How could anyone even argue such a thing?
How, indeed. Whatever Rose might or might not have done, if he's banned from the game he shouldn't be in the Hall of Fame.
By the way, James has argued that Pete Rose got a raw deal, that the evidence against him is not nearly as strong as we've been led to believe. So for the sake of argument, let's assume that Rose has been mistreated. Let's assume that he never got a fair shake, and deserves one. So how, exactly, does that happen? Who presides over this hearing? Who is willing to pony up the millions of dollars that both sides will spend on their lawyers? And if we do have a hearing, and Major League Baseball finds that Rose did indeed bet on the Reds, what then? Will Rose file a lawsuit? Probably. Will Rose's fans argue that the hearing was unfair? Definitely.
I simply cannot envision a happy conclusion to this sordid affair. Even if Rose is innocent of the worst charges against him, we'll probably never know, because there will not be a fair hearing. And even if Rose is shown to be guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, there will always be a fringe element agitating for his absolution, just as there is a misguided but vocal element agitating for Joe Jackson.
Anyway, if you're interested in what really happened between Pete Rose and Bart Giamatti, a good place to start is James Reston's book, "Collision at Home Plate" (HarperCollins, 1991). Another great resource is the Pete Rose FAQ at the Baseball1 website, where you can actually see the betting slips that are the most damning evidence against Rose.
I can tell you that the majority of the evidence suggests that Rose was guilty of betting on baseball games, including those involving the team he managed. But there's some evidence on the other side, too. At this point, we'll never know exactly what happened. But it's worth noting that Major League Baseball is not a civil society. They don't have to prove anything to anyone but themselves. And as long as Bud Selig is running the show, Pete Rose will remain on the outside looking in.
Monday in my discussion of the Team of the Century, I neglected to mention the Negro League candidates, and I apologize. The issue, of course, is whether Satchel Paige or Josh Gibson should have made the team. Before the "special panel" added their five players, I had sort of assumed that Paige and/or Gibson would make it, because it would have been the politically correct thing to do. And one might argue that one or both of them deserved to be on the team, politics or no politics. I don't know if Satchel Paige was one of the nine greatest pitchers of the 20th century, but I certainly don't know that he was not.
I don't think the special panel had much of a choice, though. Their hands were essentially tied by the fans, who naturally voted for the players they knew. Was Satchel Paige a better pitcher than Nolan Ryan? Absolutely. But was he better than Christy Mathewson, Lefty Grove or Warren Spahn, the three pitchers the special panel added? That's a tough argument.
As for Gibson, I suspect he's one of history's top five or six catchers. Better than Johnny Bench or Yogi Berra? Again, that's a tough argument. And if the special panel had added Gibson, they would have to have left off either Honus Wagner or Stan Musial, both of whom should be on the team.
Should a Negro Leagues player be listed among the top 30 players of this century? Yes. But the fans didn't vote that way, and the special panel had other, larger injustices to correct.
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 27
So far, the most interesting thing about this World Series is how precisely it's gone according to form.
Coming in, it seemed apparent that Atlanta's roster was almost uniquely handicapped against right-handed pitchers -- Orlando Hernandez and David Cone, for example -- who are particularly tough on right-handed hitters (Hernandez and Cone ranked Nos. 2 and 3 in the American League, behind only Pedro Martinez, in batting average allowed against righty hitters). And sure enough, in 14 innings of work, Hernandez and Cone held the Braves to the grand total of two hits over Games 1 and 2.
It also seemed apparent that the Braves should have a pretty good chance against a left-hander ... Andy Pettitte, for example. Neither Gerald Williams nor Bret Boone nor Jose Hernandez are truly productive hitters, but they're certainly better against portsiders.
It's also worth noting that when a right-hander pitches for the Yankees, the Braves have no good candidate for designated hitter, which became quite apparent when Ozzie Guillen pinch-hit for Hernandez in the 10th inning, and which will remain apparent in Game 4.
OPS vs RHP OPS vs LHP
Williams .753 .844
Boone .704 .784
Hernandez .715 .864
(In case you've never read this column, OPS stands for on-base percentage plus slugging percentage. Yes, it's a "junk stat," but it's also a pretty good measure of offensive productivity.)
Anyway, so what happens last night? Against Pettitte, Williams went 2-for-3 with a single, a triple, and two runs scored. Boone went 3-for-3 with three doubles, an RBI and a run scored. Hernandez went 1-for-2 with a double and two RBI.
And then, when Pettitte left the game in fourth, to be followed by a trio of right-handed relievers, once again the Brave bats lost their gumption. Or somethin', as they went just 4-for-21 the rest of the game. Watching the Braves try to hit the Yankee righties is like watching a monkey try to eat soup with chopsticks. And of course, they never did see another lefty, because Chad Curtis ended the game in the bottom of the 10th with his second home run of the contest.
Justifiably or not, after Game 3 Bobby Cox just might be remembered as the worst postseason manager of all time. Yet again, his moves just didn't work out. Boone was thrown out trying to steal third base in the fourth inning, which might have cost the Braves a run. Otis Nixon was thrown out trying to steal second base in the ninth inning, which might have cost the Braves a run. Tom Glavine was allowed to start the eighth inning -- he'd only thrown 72 pitches to that point -- and promptly gave up the two runs that tied the game.
Were all of those moves defensible? Absolutely. Did any of them work out? Absolutely not. And what people remember are the results. You kinda feel bad for the guy.
As for the Braves, they are finished, at least if history is any indication. And finished fast. In the prior history of the World Series, there have been 19 occasions on which one team won the first three games. In 16 of those World Series, the team that won the first three also won the fourth. In the other three of those World Series, the team that won the first three lost the fourth, but won the fifth.
I quite often downplay the effects of "chemistry" and "psychology" in baseball, but I do think that once a team gets down 3-0 in a best-of-7 series, it's tough to get up for that next one. Players get tired, and it takes great effort to continue playing hard and well after six months of the daily grind. And when you're down as far as the Braves are, the effort is that much tougher.
All-Century aftershocks
I thought we were finished with the All-Century team, but unfortunately the race card reared its ugly head Tuesday night. In case you've not heard, the family of Roberto Clemente is, as you might expect, disappointed that he didn't make the team. Roberto Clemente Jr. said before Tuesday's game that, "The Hispanic community is in an uproar," but he offered no evidence of this. Fair enough. This should have a been a tempest in a teapot, but unfortunately Bud Selig decided to toss his dunce cap into the ring, legitimizing the "controversy" by commenting, "I understand the feeling about Roberto Clemente. I really don't disagree with it, to be perfectly blunt about it."
I've written about Clemente twice this year already, so I'll yield the floor to a reader.
Rob,
I know I am probably in the minority here, (or maybe not, considering the voting), but I find it hard to believe that, his heroic and tragic death notwithstanding, Roberto Clemente was one of the 10 best outfielders ever. As I look down the list of outfielders, I'd place Clemente ahead of only Rose, and behind SEVEN who didn't make it (Robinson, Reggie, Henderson, Bonds, Kaline, Ott, Yastrzemski ... and possibly Speaker).
Clemente's run of unquestioned excellence was relatively short, and his defense, while no doubt impressive, isn't enough to carry him past some of these other guys, who, not coincidentally could play some defense, too. I'm somewhat bothered that people use his Hispanic background and tragic death to try and make us believe he was better than he really was. A great player? Absolutely. A great human being? Without question. But between the lines, where it counted (for this survey, anyway), there were a few guys better. I also find it ludicrous that they are now considering expanding the team to include him. If they don't put George Brett on, I won't boycott MasterCard, I just won't pay my bill!
Thanks for listening, and I look forward to the inevitable article you'll have to write on this one!
Jay Odum
Couldn't have said it better myself, though I do have a few minor quibbles. One might reasonably argue that Clemente was as good or better than Reggie Jackson, Al Kaline and Carl Yastrzremski. That said, Clemente was not nearly as valuable as Rickey Henderson, Barry Bonds, Frank Robinson or Mel Ott. I've written about this at least twice before, but the simple fact is that even if you give Clemente an immense amount of credit for his brilliant defense, he still doesn't match right fielders Robinson and Ott. And in terms of overall value, Clemente is well behind Henderson and Bonds, not to mention Joe Morgan and Eddie Collins and Tris Speaker and Jimmie Foxx and Eddie Mathews.
In fact, the only outfielder on the All-Century team who's not as good as Clemente is -- would you believe it -- Pete Rose!
But again, the key issue is not the entire roster of the All-Century team, but rather the five who were added by the special panel. And it's very, very tough to justify Clemente going ahead of Honus Wagner, Stan Musial, Warren Spahn, Lefty Grove or Christy Mathewson.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 28
A little too much is being made of the fact that the Yankees have "won 12 straight World Series games." Yes, they've won 12 straight, but there was a year-long break in there called "1997."
For my money, the most impressive World Series feats were turned in by other Yankee teams. Beginning in 1936, the Yankees won four straight World Series. It took them six games in 1936, five games in 1937, and then only four in both 1938 and '39. And 10 years later, in 1949, the Yankees began a streak of five straight World Series victories. They went 8-1 in the '49 and '50 Series combined, but were pushed a little the next three years, going 12-7.
But before you Yankee fans write your profane missives, let me stress that I rate the current team among the top five dynasties in history. (For a more specific ranking, you'll have to read my book, "Baseball Dynasties," in stores next spring.)
Speaking of Yankee fans, here's one now ...
Rob,
How good is Mariano Rivera? Michael Kay (a Yankees radio broadcaster) just called him "probably the greatest reliever of all time" on the MSG postgame report. Now, while that may be an exaggeration, how DOES Rivera compare to past relievers?
World Series MVP, all-time best postseason ERA, three straight seasons of sub-2.00 ERAs and 35+ saves (and his '96 no season was no slouch) -- all while throwing nothing more than two fastballs. No runs allowed since JULY. So how does he stack up?
Jason Heller
New York, NY
P.S. I'm genuinely curious, not as a New Yorker, but as a real baseball fan.
Well, Jason, since you're a real baseball fan ...
Obviously, it's a little early to start calling Rivera "the greatest reliever of all time," given that he hasn't even spent five full seasons in the big leagues. But that ERA column on his player card is awfully impressive.
First season, Rivera pitches 67 innings, including 10 starts, and goes 5-3 but also posts a 5.51 ERA.
Second season ... shoot, they say a table is worth 200 words, so I'll just run some of the more relevant and interesting of Rivera's stats.
IP Hits HR BB SO Sv ERA
1995 67 71 11 30 51 0 5.51
1996 108 73 1 34 130 5 2.09
1997 72 65 5 20 68 43 1.88
1998 61 48 3 17 36 36 1.91
1999 69 43 2 18 52 45 1.83
What really jumps out here is, of course, those ERAs below 2.00. But we'll save the best for last. Some other interesting stuff:
Rivera allowed 11 home runs in his first 67 innings ... and only 11 in the 310 since.
In 1996, his first season as a full-time relief pitcher, Rivera struck out 10.9 hitters per nine innings. But after shifting to closer duties in 1997, Rivera struck out "only" 8.5 per nine. And then in 1998, his strikeout rate fairly plummeted, all the way to 5.3 K's per nine innings. This year it was back up to 6.8, a happy medium.
But here's the interesting thing ... through all the fluctuations in Rivera's strikeout rates, he's been almost identically effective since going to the bullpen. If Rivera had allowed 23 earned runs in 1996 rather than 25, he would have posted sub-2.00 ERA's in four straight seasons. Nobody's ever done that.
But that's all right, because I don't believe any other closer has posted sub-2.00 ERA's in three straight seasons, either.
There are two relief pitchers, Rollie Fingers and Hoyt Wilhelm, in the Hall of Fame. Fingers posted three sub-2.00 ERA's, but not consecutively. Wilhelm, believe it or not, posted sub-2.00 ERA's in five straight seasons with the White Sox, beginning in 1964. Wilhelm wasn't a closer, per se; in 1966, he only collected six saves with his 1.66 ERA. In Wilhelm's favor, he generally threw a lot more innings per season than Rivera. In Rivera's favor, it was a lot easier to post a sub-2.00 ERA in 1967 than in 1997.
If we're looking for good comps for Rivera, we really can only go back about 15 years, because before then, top relievers routinely topped 100 innings per season. And looking at the last 15 seasons, it seems to me that Dennis Eckersley is the only reliever who's enjoyed a four-year stretch like Rivera.
IP ERA Saves
Eckersley 1989-1992 287 1.78 175
Rivera 1996-1999 310 1.95 129
Eckersley obviously has the edge in both ERA and saves. However, back then the American League ERA hovered right around 4.00. This season it was 4.87, last season it was 4.65. So relative to their leagues, Rivera has been just as good as Eckersley over the four seasons.
How does he do it? That's another item of interest. I was fortunate enough to watch Game 4 in the company of a veteran minor-league manager, and he succinctly (and admiringly) said of Rivera, "He's only got one pitch."
But what a pitch. If you throw 95 miles an hour with movement, who's going to hit it? Sure, they'll get some wood on the ball, but not enough to do much damage.
Is Rivera the greatest reliever of all time? After four years, that's a silly question. However, I suspect he may be the greatest-ever pure closer over a three-year stretch. It's hard to believe, but Rivera will turn 30 in a month and a day. If he can put together another five great seasons, he's in the Hall of Fame ... and we haven't even mentioned his unbelievable October performances.
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 29
I apologize, not only to Trevor Hoffman's legions of fans, but also to Hoffman himself, his friends, his family, and anyone else who might feel a personal connection to him. Why? Because yesterday we discussed great closers, and any such discussion of great modern closers simply must include Hoffman.
What's a "modern closer"? After a fair amount of fairly simple research, I believe the Age of the Modern Closer began in 1987. The previous season, three pitchers -- Dave Righetti, Todd Worrell and John Franco -- pitched more than 100 innings and saved more than 25 games. You want to guess how many pitchers have reached both marks in a single season since?
One. In 1992, Doug Jones pitched 112 innings and recorded 36 saves.
So I don't think it's appropriate to compare Mariano Rivera to pre-1987 closers, because it's now a different, and in some respects easier, job. There is clearly the perception, at least, that neither Rivera nor any of his brethren are capable of throwing 120 innings, season after season -- if their managers thought they could do it, then they would.
So when asking the question, "Is Mariano Rivera the greatest reliever ever?" you've got to narrow it down to, "Is Mariano Rivera the greatest reliever of the last 15 years?" And when answering that question, his only competition would seem to be Eckersley and, yes, Trevor Hoffman.
We can frame this discussion in different ways.
A number of readers suggest looking at hits/innings ratios, or baserunners/innings ratios, or save percentages. To me, though, if two pitchers allow the same number of runs while performing essentially the same duties, they've been equally valuable. The tough part is deciding how many seasons to consider. Rivera's been a relief pitcher for four years, but a closer for only three.
So do we give him all four years when we compare him to Eckersley and Hoffman, or do we only give him three? In yesterday's column, we looked at four seasons, so here are the same numbers, but with the addition of Hoffman:
IP ERA Saves
Eckersley 1989-1992 287 1.78 175
Hoffman 1996-1999 310 2.15 172
Rivera 1996-1999 310 1.95 129
When trying to choose between one of these three, it pretty much depends on where you live. Since I don't live in California or New York, I'll give you my objective opinion, which is that Eckersley is the No. 1 guy here. His ERA is substantially lower than Hoffman's, and he's got 46 more saves than Rivera. Now, purely on a statistical basis, saves don't really amount to much, and in fact a pure statistical analysis would likely lift Rivera above Eckersley because of the extra 23 innings pitched. However, I think that pitching the ninth inning is worth a little extra credit, just enough to put the Eck on top.
What if we look at just three seasons, the three best seasons for each of our candidates?
IP ERA Saves
Eckersley 1989-1991 207 1.74 124
Hoffman 1997-1999 222 2.11 130
Rivera 1997-1999 202 1.87 124
Now Rivera beats out Eckersley, given that he's got just as many saves, and his ERA, after adjusting for league context (not shown here) is better. And I also give Rivera a slight edge over Hoffman, again because of the ERAs. While it's true that National League closers almost never pitch to pitchers, thus negating some of the difference between the leagues when you're evaluating closers, most pinch-hitters probably aren't as potent as most designated hitters. So Rivera's ERA edge is real, or at least partially real.
Here's another reason I love Rivera over the three-year stretch: He's been as consistent as anybody, ever. Beginning in 1989, Eckersley's ERA's read: 1.56, 0.61, 2.96. Beginning in 1997, Hoffman's ERA's read: 2.66, 1.48, 2.14.
And then you've got Rivera ...
1.88
1.91
1.83
I don't have any idea if there's any intrinsic value in that kind of consistency, but as a guy who enjoys symmetry, I derive a particular thrill from those numbers.
Of course, the real problem with calling Rivera "the best reliever ever" is that he's only been a reliever for four seasons. Beginning in 1987, Eckersley went on a great six-season run, wherein he posted a 2.18 ERA and saved 236 games. If Rivera can pitch brilliantly and approach those numbers, then perhaps we can talk about him being the best ever. But right now, he's not even the best of the last 15 years.
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