 |
 |
|
| | Wednesday, January 5 | |||||||
| WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 1 As if things weren't going poorly enough for the Dodgers lately, recently they were forced to trade for Kevin Orie, who last year was the backup third baseman for a team that lost 98 games. What am I talking about? Read on ...
Shawn Trumbull Fair? I think so. More on The Greatest Catcher Perhaps I've already written enough on this subject, but here's just a bit more on a catcher who truly controlled the running game. From 1970 through 1976, Johnny Bench played in 42 postseason games with the Cincinnati Reds. In those 42 games, the Reds stole 50 bases. Wanna guess how many bases were stolen against the Reds? Two. Two. In 42 games, the Reds out-stole their opponents 50 to 2, and Bench himself out-stole his opponents, 6-2. Now that is controlling the game. Or, at least one small part of the game. FRIDAY, DECEMBER 3 A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of attending, and speaking at, Ron Shandler's Fantasy Baseball Symposium in Phoenix. The annual event is a great excuse to hang out with a bunch of baseball fans and see current and future major leaguers in Arizona Fall League games (you get to sit in the front row, too!) In addition to my ESPN.com colleague John Sickels, one of the other speakers was David Rawnsley, who writes for "Baseball America," and whose wonderful work occasionally can be accessed through ESPN.com. Rawnsley represents the next, better generation of baseball analysts. Actually, that's a little misleading, because David's a few years older than I am. What I should say is that he's the future of baseball analysts, the type of guy who can break down a pitcher's delivery and use terms like "OPS" and "strikeout-to-walk ratio." If I could start my career all over again, I'd try to be David Rawnsley (but without the beard). Anyway, David brings a unique perspective to the table, because he used to work for the Astros, so he's full of the inside information that most of the press simply isn't privy to. Now, sometimes inside information isn't really all that valuable for you and me ... but it sure is fun. It's like that new movie, "The Insider." Yes, it's dramatic, and Al Pacino and Russell Crowe are great actors. But truth be told, what makes it enjoyable is the voyeuristic aspect, the feeling that we're getting a glimpse at the unsavory happenings behind the scenes at "60 Minutes." And at the Fantasy Baseball Symposium, David Rawnsley told us something incredibly basic, yet something that I'll bet 99 percent of us didn't know. Right-handed pitchers aren't as tall as we think they are. At least, a lot of them aren't. But backtracking a little bit, I'm sure you've all heard that old saying, which states that little left-handers are OK, but right-handers need to be bigger. Did that ever make any sense to you? It certainly didn't to me. When Rawnsley worked for the Astros, the Houston rotation at one time included Mark Portugal, Pete Harnisch and Ryan Bowen. As it happens, Portugal, Harnisch and Bowen were (and still are) all listed at six feet exactly. A strange coincidence? Hardly. You see, according to Rawnsley, none of those three stands six feet tall, at least not without platform shoes. Given the prejudice against "short" right-handers, many scouts simply won't turn in a report listing a right-handed pitcher at less than six feet tall. So if they see a guy they like, and he's not tall enough ... well, what's an extra inch or two among friends? And as silly as it might seem, players are, quite often, forever listed at the height (and weight) at which they signed their first professional contract. How silly is this bias against short righties? Scott Williamson is listed at six feet, but is 5-10 at best. Pedro Martinez is listed at 5-11, and he might be shorter than Williamson. Of course, neither of those guys has any problems with velocity, or "stuff." The fact is that a pitcher with a compact body is more easily able to maintain a consistent delivery. That's why you don't see, for example, pitchers that are seven feet tall. According to Rawnsley, the Astros and Reds have a history of giving chances to "little" right-handers, and that goes a ways toward explaining their success in recent years. As Rawnsley says, "Right now, half the Astros pitching pitching prospects are 5-10 or 5-11" ... even if it says 6-0 in the media guide. Now, returning to the topic we discussed in Wednesday's column, here's a note from my friend Mike Curto, radio broadcaster for the Tacoma Rainiers:
In reference to the Beltre case, I have a slightly different, minor-league influenced perspective. It seems that not much is made of how much money and time the Dodgers put into Beltre. What about all the money spent on an expansive minor-league system, strictly for the benefit of the four or five guys like Beltre who make it? The expert instructors who spent hours working with him? The Dodgers have made a huge investment in Beltre ... a creative accountant could probably determine that the cash figure is in the millions. They shouldn't just lose the player. So I would not punish any teams that currently have players who were signed before they were 16. But I would announce that, starting now, such things will be punishable by loss of the player through the waiver process, as you suggested. Basically, grandfather everyone now, and start getting serious about it from this point forward. -- Mike I think the idea of grandfathering in current professional players is probably a good one, given the widespread use of these underhanded tactics. What most bothers me about Beltre's apparently impending free agency is that (1) Scott Boras will be humming a happy little tune and dreaming sweet dreams, and (2) Beltre will simply sign with one of the large-market teams. And thus, yet again the rich simply get richer. To quote a great comedian, "What a country." WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 8 In Monday's column, I ran through some of the arguments for and against Jack Morris' Hall of Fame candidacy. He is not the strongest candidate on the ballot. In my mind, the best candidates are a pair of catchers, Gary Carter and Carlton Fisk. I've written a number of things about Carter (including a long piece on his Hall of Fame qualifications in -- ready for a shameless plug? -- my book, "Baseball Dynasties," co-authored with Eddie Epstein and due in stores next spring). However, I've just now noticed how poorly Carter did in the MVP voting when he played in Montreal, and how well he did in the MVP voting while playing in New York. Check out these five seasons:
Avg HR RBI OPS MVP?
1980 .264 29 101 .822 7th
1982 .293 29 97 .895 12th
1984 .294 27 106 .855 14th
1985 .281 32 100 .855 6th
1986 .255 24 105 .785 3rd
After 11 seasons in Montreal, Carter was traded to the Mets prior to the 1985 season. Suddenly, the stats that barely got him noticed in Montreal were getting him plenty of MVP votes in New York.
I attribute this not to a New York bias in MVP voting -- such a bias has never been demonstrated -- but rather a bias for catchers on good teams (and perhaps a small bias against Montreal players). The Expos reached the postseason just once during Carter's tenure, and that was in 1981, when he didn't play particularly well (although he did finish sixth in the MVP voting that year).
You compare Carter to Fisk and, once you get past career length, Carter looks pretty good. Carter drove in 100 runs four times; Fisk did it twice. Carter hit 20 home runs nine times; Fisk did it eight times. Carter finished in the top seven in MVP voting three times; Fisk, twice. Before his arm went dead late in his career, Carter was considered a solid defensive catcher; Fisk was best known for his interminable trips to the mound.
Frankly, neither Carter nor Fisk were great hitters, compared to top first basemen and left fielders. But both Carter and Fisk played long enough and well enough for the Hall of Fame, because they were catchers.
By the way, do you know how many Hall of Fame catchers began their major league careers after 1950? One. Johnny Bench. It's almost as if the voters have decided that Johnny Bench is now the definition of the Hall of Fame catcher. This would be a tough standard indeed, given that Bench is arguably the greatest catcher in history.
Anyway, Fisk and Carter are the easy ones. It's the rest of the guys on the ballot that we can all argue about. I'll take them one at a time, and relatively briefly.
I wrote at least two columns about Tony Perez a year ago, and I'm not going to rehash those here. Statistically, he's got a strong argument, based solely on his No. 18 spot on the all-time RBI list. Aside from Perez, the top 36 players on that list are either in the Hall of Fame, or will be. Toss out the RBI, though -- and you know that RBI is a heavily team-dependent statistic -- and I don't really see the argument for Perez. He's Harold Baines on better teams. With better knees.
If Tony Perez was "Doggie," Steve Garvey might best be described as "Puppy." Perez played for the best National League West team of the 1970s; Garvey played for the NL West's second-best team. Perez drew 54 walks per 162 games; Garvey drew (gulp) 33 walks per 162 games. Perez knocked in 100 runs seven times; Garvey did it five times.
While Garvey spent most of his career in a pitcher's park while Perez spent most of his career in a hitter's park, Garvey's far inferior walk rate drops him below Perez as a hitter, and in fact should keep him out of Cooperstown. What's more, like Perez, Garvey really was an outstanding hitter for just six or seven seasons. Unlike Perez, Garvey wasn't an everyday player for 14 seasons, but rather 12. Thus, given that I consider Perez a marginal candidate, I certainly cannot support the election of Garvey.
In their primes, Dale Murphy and Jim Rice were both considered future Hall of Famers, which just goes to show that it's difficult to rate a guy until you see how well he ages. Rice hasn't drawn much support the last few years, and Murphy didn't do so well on last year's ballot, his first.
By the mid-1980s, Murphy was cruising toward Cooperstown, smiling and homering along the way. He had won two MVPs and in 1987 he set career highs with 44 home runs, 115 walks and a .580 slugging percentage. Murphy turned 32 the next March, and for some reason he simply stopped hitting. That one-year slump wound up being a six-year slump, and Murphy retired two home runs short of 400. It wasn't supposed to end that way for the player everyone loved to love.
Perhaps now is a good time to ask the question, "What is a Hall of Famer, anyway?" People love to say that Player A is in the Hall of Fame, and he's no better than Player B, so Player B should also be in. It's the "least common denominator" argument, and if you subscribe to such silliness, you'll have to build a whole new wing to accommodate all the players who suddenly deserve a plaque of their own. On the other hand, a Hall of Famer clearly isn't just Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig and Willie Mays. Some of us might wish that was the definition, but it's not, and it's not going to be.
I propose a compromise, whereby we determine a middle point between the lowest and greatest common denominators, and figure that our Hall of Famers must hold a spot somewhere above that middle point. However, I would also suggest that we raise our standards for hitters, especially 1B/DH/LF types, even a bit higher. Thanks in part to the DH rule, and also to easier working conditions, players are hanging around longer than they used to.
Murphy was washed up when he was 32, Rice when he was 34. I cannot support their elections. Dave Parker did remain productive into his late 30s, but not productive enough for a guy who spent his last four seasons as a DH.
It's possible that Keith Hernandez was so good defensively that he deserves a Hall of Fame plaque despite his relatively modest career hitting stats (2,182 hits and 1,071 RBI, for example). Call it "the Bill Mazeroski defense." But to this point, no one's revealed a method for evaluating a first baseman that would allow us to make that defense. We'll check back in a year or two.
Hey, I respect the hell out of Joe Morgan. And he's got every right to push the candidacies of his teammates. But that doesn't mean we have to pay any attention, because Joe simply isn't objective about his old pals. I mean, where does it end? Should we just enshrine the entire lineup of the 1975 Reds, as the Professional Football Hall of Fame has virtually done with the 1960s Packers? George Foster's career stats are every bit as impressive as Dale Murphy's. Assuming Murphy makes it someday, then why not Foster? (And yes, I know that Murphy won two MVP awards. I also know that Foster won an MVP, and finished second another year.)
This is a roundabout way of saying that Dave Concepcion falls a little short. He played for a long time, but he wasn't much of a hitter, even for a shortstop. And while he certainly was a solid glove man, if there's evidence that he was an outstanding defensive shortstop, I've not seen it yet.
This column is supposed to run Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays during the offseason, but tomorrow I'll finish up this subject with the pitcher candidates.
MONDAY, DECEMBER 6Last Thursday, the 2000 Hall of Fame ballot was mailed to voting members of the Baseball Writers Association of America. Among the famous names making their first appearances are Jeff Reardon and Goose Gossage, but it's Jack Morris who has drawn the most attention.
2. Jack Morris was a great postseason pitcher. The first of these is a red herring. Was Morris anywhere near as good as Tom Seaver, who pitched until the mid-'80s? Was he anywhere near as good as Roger Clemens, who began his career in the mid-'80s? No and no. That Jack Morris was the winningest pitcher in the 1980s was simply an accident, an accident of birth. It's just as meaningless as the supposed Hall of Fame qualification for Jim Bunning, that he was the only pitcher to throw a no-hitter in both leagues. As for the second of these, well, I think too much has been made of Morris' postseason successes. First of all, it's of course a small sample size. I mean, 13 games? And in those 13 games, Morris went 7-4 with a 3.80 ERA. For the sake of comparison, his career ERA in the regular season was 3.90. Yes, those figures are nearly identical. True, it came against tougher competition and in tougher situations. But we're not talking about Bob Gibson here, folks. You know, it's funny, everybody remembers the 1991 World Series. Morris pitched well in Games 1 and 4, and then he tossed 10 shutout innings in Game 7 to beat the Braves 1-0. It was arguably one of the top four or five performances in Series history. Yes, Morris does deserve "extra" points on his Hall of Fame ledger. But what about 1992? A year later, Morris started Games 1 and 5 for the Blue Jays in the World Series, and he lost both badly. If we give Morris points for the 1991, shouldn't we also deduct points for 1992? To me, the argument for Morris rests on two pillars: he won 254 games, and he won 57.7 percent of his career decisions. Those are both impressive numbers, and both compare favorably with any number of pitchers who already are in the Hall of Fame. However, the standards have been getting tougher and tougher in recent decades. To wit, here's Morris, along with another pitcher who is on the Hall of Fame ballot this year for the second time. Many of you, I suspect, will recognize this other pitcher from his stats, but I'll hold off on identification for a moment.
W - L Pct ERA ERA+
Jack Morris 254-186 .577 3.90 104
Other pitcher 287-250 .534 3.31 117
I don't believe I've discussed "ERA+" in nearly a year, so let me briefly elucidate. ERA+ is simply an index describing a pitcher's ERA, relative to the league and adjusted for his home ballpark. So the 104 figure for Morris means that, after adjusting for his home parks, his career ERA was four percent better than the leagues in which he pitched. Four percent is good, of course, but it's something less than outstanding.
Yes, there's a significant difference between a .577 winning percentage and a .534 winning percentage. But how significant?
Bert Blyleven pitched in 22 seasons. If you give him one extra win and one fewer loss in each of those 22 seasons, he's got a .575 winning percentage ... virtually identical to Morris.
Morris pitched in 18 seasons. If you give him one extra loss and one fewer win in each of those 18 seasons, he's got a .536 winning percentage ... virtually identical to Blyleven.
On the face of it, the quality of their teams wasn't all that different. Blyleven's teams reached the postseason three times, Morris' teams reached the postseason four times. But if you dig a little deeper, the picture changes.
Continuing the discussion of players on the Hall of Fame ballot ... Bert Blyleven, Tommy John and Jim Kaat all go in the same group. John won 288 games, Blyleven 287 and Kaat 283. None of them ever won a Cy Young award, and in fact only John ever finished as high as second (he did that twice). Until last night I wasn't quite sure why, but for some time I've rated both Blyleven and John a notch above Kaat. Looking at their entries in Total Baseball, though, I think I was probably right. After adjusting for his ballparks, Kaat's career ERA was only seven percent better than league average. Meanwhile, John was 10 percent better than league, and Blyleven 17 percent better. Thus, I rate Blyleven at the head of this class, with John and Kaat a bit behind. Of course, if you really think that Jim Bunning is a Hall of Famer -- you'll remember that the Veterans Committee elected Bunning a few years ago -- then all three of these guys deserve to make it, because all three were better than Bunning. Personally, I have no problem with Blyleven, but I'm a bit skeptical when it comes to the other two. Luis Tiant and Ron Guidry are in a group of their own. Well, not really. The only thing they truly have in common is that both pitched brilliantly, but not long enough to even approach 300 wins.
W - L Pct ERA ERA+
El Tiante 229-172 .571 3.30 113
La. Lightning 170- 91 .651 3.29 119
Guidry's .651 winning percentage ranks 13th on the all-time list. But these days, when guys with 280-plus victories have trouble getting into the Hall, how can a guy with 170 expect to make it? Guidry was a fantastic pitcher, but he wasn't fantastic for quite long enough. Tiant wasn't as good, but he did enjoy a longer career. If he'd won more games or pitched as well as Guidry, I'd be happy to vote for him. As his record stands now -- and we probably shouldn't rule out a comeback -- I cannot.
Now, what about the relief pitchers? Goose Gossage and Jeff Reardon appear on the ballot for the first time this year, while Bruce Sutter is a holdover. Here are some numbers for the trio:
W-L Innings Saves ERA ERA+
Gossage 124-107 1809 310 3.01 125
Reardon 73-77 1132 367 3.16 121
Sutter 68-71 1042 300 2.83 135
Reardon pitched for a long time, but he was never really great, not in the way that Mariano Rivera is great. And for a guy that pitched in the majors until he was 39, Reardon didn't pitch a lot of innings. Sutter has a different problem. He was brilliant for seven or eight years, but only lasted 12 seasons in the majors.
Gossage, on the other hand, has everything in his favor. He pitched forever, 22 years in the majors despite a one-year sabbatical in Japan. He was great for a long time, with a run of nine straight quality seasons that would likely have been 11 if one of his managers hadn't wasted him in the starting rotation for a year. He threw a lot of innings, far more than Reardon or Sutter.
When I did my all-time position rankings last winter, I rated Gossage No. 2 among the relievers, behind only Hoyt Wilhelm (or was it the other way around?). As it happens, Total Baseball has Gossage No. 2 (behind Wilhelm) in "Relief Ranking," and Bill James has Gossage No. 2 (behind Wilhelm) in "Win Shares." So I'm fairly comfortable with my own ranking, which I arrived at independently of the other methods. (Just don't ask me to duplicate my research.)
If I had a Hall of Fame ballot, I would place a check-mark next to four names: Carlton Fisk, Gary Carter, Bert Blyleven and Rich Gossage. It's not that some of the other candidates aren't Hall of Fame-worthy, but these are the only four that I'm sure about. And you probably shouldn't vote for someone if you're not sure.
What will actually happen? With such a crowded field of iffy candidates, it's hard to say. But I'll be greatly surprised if Carlton Fisk isn't elected, and I'll be mildly surprised if Tony Perez isn't also elected. Given that the BBWAA rarely elects more than two candidates at a time -- last year being a notable exception -- and warranted given the overwhelming qualifications of Brett, Yount and Ryan -- Fisk and Perez would seem to be the only two with a legitimate shot at enshrinement in 2000.
And after this year, it starts getting awfully tough. In 2001, you've got Don Mattingly, Kirby Puckett and Dave Winfield. Don't even get me started on these three, but I'm nearly certain that two of them will make it on the first ballot, leaving all the holdovers holding the bag.
In 2002, it'll be Andre Dawson and Ozzie Smith.In 2003, Eddie Murray and Ryne Sandberg. In 2004, Dennis Eckersley and Paul Molitor. The next realistic chance for anybody who doesn't make it this year comes in 2005, when Wade Boggs will be the only strong candidate making his debut on the ballot. However, Lee Smith will likely be a holdover from the 2003 ballot, and if he's still the all-time saves leader, he's going to draw a lot of support. All of which is to say, Gary Carter doesn't need to worry about making hotel reservations in Cooperstown for quite some time. FRIDAY, DECEMBER 10 Today, a pair of letters related to this week's discussion of Hall of Fame candidates ...
Gm AB HR RBI OBP Slug
Post 47 172 6 24 .291 .378
Regular 812 2957 133 563 .362 .497
Yes, Perez was facing better pitchers in October. But if a guy was a truly a "great clutch hitter," wouldn't you expect to see better postseason numbers than these? I don't think you need me to tell you that Perez's stats actually suffered when he reached the postseason.
Now, a real killjoy would argue that, not only was Perez not a great clutch hitter, he was actually a poor clutch hitter. I'm not going to do that because, like I said, I don't really believe in such things. What I think is that Perez, like most hitters, had trouble with tough pitchers, and he faced a lot of them in October. Plus, even 172 at-bats isn't much to go on. The point here, though, is that there simply isn't much, if any, evidence that Perez possessed some preternatural ability to hit when the chips were on the table. Tony Perez might well deserve his very own plaque in Cooperstown, but it's not because he was a great clutch hitter. That argument, like so many others used to boost Hall of Fame candidacies, is just another red herring.
The following letter is significantly longer than what I like to print, but hey, you've got the whole weekend to read today's column, right?
Here's a little behind-the-scenes peek at ESPN.com. Until relatively recently, nearly all of the ESPN.com staff worked just outside of Seattle. As a result, a lot of the ESPN.com staff was recruited from the Seattle area. So, naturally, occasionally Seattle's sports teams might have received a bit more coverage than they deserved. That doesn't really happen any more, as most of the staff has now joined the big boys in Bristol, Connecticut. However, this particular young man didn't head east, so the Mariners are still my local team, by necessity rather than choice. Anyway, all this is my way of saying that while I try to avoid writing about the M's too often, today I will make an exception because there are a couple of things I've been wanting to get off my chest. First, John Olerud. When he chose the Mariners over the Mets last week, the story here in Seattle was, essentially, "Olerud chooses his hometown over the big New York money." Except that's not really what happened. I checked with two different New York baseball writers. One reports that the Mets offered Olerud $18.5 million for three years, the other reports that the Mets offered Olerud about $20 million for three years. It's generally acknowledged that Olerud signed with the Mariners for $20.3 million. So how is that choosing family over money? When you factor in the difference in the cost of living in Manhattan and the Seattle suburbs -- expensive, yes, but nothing like New York -- plus the lack of a state income tax in Washington, you're drawn to the conclusion that, financially, Olerud will actually do better with the Mariners than he would have with the Mets. This is not a knock on Olerud, not at all. He gets the better contract and he gets to live near his family in the city he grew up in. Rather, this is a knock against the sporting press. We need heroes and villains -- makes for better drama, don't you know --- and where they don't exist? Hell, we'll just invent them! And if anyone in Seattle needs to invent a villain, Ken Griffey has much to offer. First, he spent most of 1999 complaining about the Mariners' new $500 million ballpark. Next, he asked the club to trade him, but severely limited the number of teams to which he would agree to be traded. And to cap things off, now he has further limited that that number to exactly one: Cincinnati. Needless to say, this puts Pat Gillick in a bad position, because he now has only two options: work out a deal with the Reds, or spend the summer of 2000 dealing with biggest lame duck this side of the Potomac. Actually, Gillick already was in a bad position, because of the teams initially on Griffey's list, the Reds were the only club that showed any real interest. The Braves, who always seemed like the best fit, never bought a ticket for this particular dance, and I don't blame them. Anyway, the Mariners and the Reds have been talking for weeks, but there's one name upon which they simply haven't been able to agree: Pokey Reese. Most reports had the Reds offering Scott Williamson plus a combination of other players, none of them Pokey Reese. Most reports had the Mariners "demanding" Scott Williamson plus a combination of other players, including Pokey Reese. Has the world gone mad? Pokey Reese shouldn't be the sticking point in anything, let alone a trade involving the best center fielder since Willie Mays. Actually, that might not be fair. It's possible that someone envisions Reese shifting back to shortstop someday, and even becoming a Gold Glover at that position. If the Mariners lose Alex Rodriguez, they could use a guy like that. But I'm telling you, while Reese is apparently an outstanding second baseman, his hitting stats simply don't justify all the emotion apparently being felt by Pat Gillick and Jim Bowden. In fact, the most common e-mail I've been getting lately is, "Why is Pokey Reese holding up this deal?" (Second-most common? "I'm a Yankees fan, but Don Mattingly's no Hall of Famer." These messages make me happy.) Look, Reese is a useful player. But we're talking about a guy whose career on-base percentage is .312, and whose career slugging percentage is .360. Yes, he did significantly better than that last year, and if his OPS is .747 every year and he wins the Gold Glove and he steals 38 bases in 45 tries ... well, then he'll be even better than useful. Unfortunately, there's a decent chance that 1999 was as good as it gets. There is this perception that Reese is a "young player," but he turned 26 last June. For a ballplayer, that's not young. I expect Reese to finish his career with hitting stats reminiscent of, say, Mickey Morandini. Granted, Reese is a better baserunner and fielder than Morandini, but frankly he just isn't worth all this fuss. I also don't quite understand why Jim Bowden is so hot for Griffey. When all this began, I thought it might even be a publicity ploy, because why would a low-revenue club like Cincinnati want a player who's going to be making around $20 million per season on his next contract. Yes, the Reds' new ballpark will eventually mean added revenue, but the big money is in local TV, and the Reds are never going to have the kind of local TV deal that allows them to spend with the big boys. But Bowden is apparently serious, and one might guess that his bosses are willing to lose money for a few years if it means the club has a chance to win 100 games. And if all they give up is Scott Williamson, Brett Tomko and Pokey Reese, they could do it. WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 15 For most, I suspect, the biggest news of the offseason is the non-news that Ken Griffey has not been traded, and it now appears that he's unlikely to be traded. For me, the biggest news of the offseason was yesterday's four-team, eight-player trade. We've all seen three-team deals, but does anyone remember a four-team trade? The deals I found most interesting, however, were the long-term contracts signed by mediocre players. Players like Wil Cordero (three years with Pirates, $9 million), Tony Womack (four years with Diamondbacks, $17 million) and Tom Goodwin (three years with Rockies, $10.75 million). Let's take those fellows in that order (and in reverse order of their signings). To be honest with you, I don't understand the fascination with Wil Cordero, and never have. His career OPS is .766, and that's not so hot for a left fielder. Yes, Cordero pasted the ol' horsehide in 1999, but he was in a great ballpark (Jacobs Field) at a great age (27). Oh, and it was only 194 at-bats. He can't run, and he's a defensive liability at just about every position. For this, you're going to fork over nine million dollars and waste a roster spot when there are younger players chomping at the bit? Yes, the Pirates needed depth and versatility. And the Pirates will be Cordero's fourth team in four years, so it's obvious that major league GMs see something that I don't. If he slugs .500 again next season, maybe I'll see it, too. As for Tony Womack ... well, if you've been reading this column for long, you know that I do not play the role of Kathy Bates to his James Caan. In other words -- for those of you who haven't seen (or read) "Misery" -- I'm not his biggest fan. This typifies a common error among fans, the assumption that if a team has performed well, then by gosh every player on that team must have performed well, too. It ain't so. Womack stole 72 bases last season, and was caught only 13 times. That's a big plus. Not a huge plus, but a big one. Stolen bases are generally overrated, but when you steal bases at an 85 percent clip, you're adding runs to the bottom line. Just not as many as people think. Unfortunately, when he wasn't actually on the bases, Womack wasn't doing much to help his team. His .332 on-base percentage was low for a leadoff man, and actually 10 points lower than the National League average. His .370 slugging percentage was nearly 60 points lower than the NL average. Including the pitchers. Those stats aren't bad for a shortstop or a slick-fielding second baseman. But of course, Womack didn't play shortstop or second base. He played right field, and although the fans down in Phoenix will tell you that he became a good right fielder in his first season at the position, after watching him botch multiple plays in October, I've got my doubts. Granted, his speed does allow him, as they say, to outrun a lot of his mistakes. Anyway, if you're a Diamondbacks fan, there is good news and some bad news. The good news is, Womack won't be playing right field next season. The bad news is, he'll be playing shortstop. Now, given that Womack's skills at second base were widely reviled when he played there, how good a shortstop do you think he'll be? My guess is "not a very good one," give or take a few throws in the dirt. Then again, the Diamondbacks did win 100 games last year. Maybe the club's management deserves the benefit of the ... naahhhhh. Shifting Womack to shortstop is crazy, and if his hitting drops off a few notches, he could challenge for the title of worst everyday player in the National League. Speaking of guys with great gams, let us evaluate one Tom Goodwin. His career on-base percentage is .338, a little better than Womack's but still low for a leadoff man. He steals a lot of bases, but not nearly as many as Womack and not at the same success rate. Defensively, he's miles ahead of Womack, a fine center fielder who doesn't have to outrun many mistakes because he doesn't make many. And as Rockies GM Dan O'Dowd might argue, perhaps that's exactly what the club needs, given the spacious center-field area at Coors Field. I look at the revamped Rockies lineup, though, and I see the same thing I've always seen, a lineup that won't lead the National League in scoring, and that's something you have to do if you're playing half your games at Coors and you want to compete for a division title. There's a running theme here, which is that too many teams are giving millions of dollars to players not appreciably better than lots of guys populating Triple-A rosters. Now, I don't want to sound like one of those writers who cries about all the money athletes make. I just want to cry about all the money these athletes make, because their new teams could have had nearly the same talent for significantly less money. Eventually, when the money gets big enough, most of the clubs will realize this basic truth. But we're obviously still not quite there. Friday, we'll revisit clutch hitters; specifically, whether or not such a beast exists. I will consult books, statistics, tarot cards, and noted cryptozoologist Franklin T. Gribble. FRIDAY, DECEMBER 17 As you might recall, last week I rather casually dismissed the idea of "clutch hitting." And as you might imagine, this resulted in a fair amount of consternation, if not outright derision, among a certain percentage of E-ville's baseball fans. So I entered my library in search of evidence. Maybe I missed something. Might I have been too hasty? In the 1977 edition of "The Baseball Research Journal," Richard D. Cramer published an article titled, "Do Clutch Hitters Exist?" Regrettably, I don't have the space to detail Cramer's methods here, but I consider them sound. Armed with play-by-play data for 1969 and 1970, Cramer checked to see if players who hit well in the clutch one season tended to do so the next season. They did not, which of course suggested that clutch hitting is not an ability, but rather a random fluctuation. Eight years later, the good folks at the Elias Sports Bureau took Cramer to task in their annual book, "The 1985 Elias Baseball Analyst." His conclusions, the authors wrote, were "unfounded" and "incorrect." Elias came up with its own definition of "clutch," defined as any at-bat in the seventh inning or later, with the batter's team trailing by three runs or less (or four runs if the bases were loaded). Elias called this a Late-Inning Pressure Situation (LIPS). Now, some might argue with that definition, but I will not. Everyone has their own idea of what "clutch" means, and this one's probably as good as any other. Elias listed the 10 best and 10 worst clutch hitters in both 1983 and 1984, and checked to see what the groups did in the other season. Yes, those are tiny sample sizes, especially when you consider that some of the hitters had as few as 30 LIPS at-bats in one of the seasons. Elias examined the data and found "a definitive statement in favor of the existence of the clutch hitters." Elias also identified 10 hitters known for their clutch ability, and ran a chart listing their LIPS averages and their overall batting averages from 1975 through 1984. The list of players included Steve Garvey, Reggie Jackson, Thurman Munson, Tony Perez and Willie Stargell. The Elias analysis? "The astonishing truth: only one of the players above -- Eddie Murray (thank God!) -- has performed significantly better over the past ten years in Line-Inning Pressure Situations." (Incidentally, Murray batted .323 in 597 LIPS at-bats, .298 in all other at-bats, and I suspect this is not a significant difference. In fact, after four more seasons that 25-point difference dropped to 16.) The message from Elias seemed to be, "Yes, there are clutch hitters. But they're not who you think they are." Fair enough. I enjoy a good bubble-bursting as much as the next fellow in line. But who are the clutch hitters? All Elias had to say about this was, "[T]here will emerge in time another group of players who are the true clutch hitters in baseball." Reading this, I couldn't understand why we couldn't see the "true" clutch hitters now. (I figured it out four years later, but we'll get to that in a few minutes.) The Elias boys revisited the subject in 1988, and this time they didn't hold back, writing, As in the past, we feel it's our duty to demonstrate that clutch hitting isn't simply a random trait of a player's profile. To most of us, of course, that's obvious, and has been as long as there have been baseball fans to notice it. Nevertheless, a small group of shrill pseudo-statisticians has used insufficient data and faulty methods to try to disprove the existence of the clutch hitter. But with four seasons of statistics now in the public domain in the four editions of the "Analyst," there's no longer an excuse for anyone not to recognize this simple fact of baseball life."
Late last summer, I devoted a column to figuring out Houston's outfield problems. Unfortunately, a spate of injuries struck the Astros, so Larry Dierker didn't really have the chance to take my advice. Well, the Astros still have a outfield problems, so in the spirit of holiday giving, I'll once again offer my help. Unfortunately, the Astros have already traded Carl Everett, by far their best outfielder in 1999. I'm not saying I would have advised differently, mind you. But a phone call would have been nice. Anyway, Everett was sent to the Red Sox, in exchange for a top shortstop prospect named Adam Everett and a young left-handed pitcher of no particular promise. From Boston's perspective, it's a classic deal. You've got surplus at a position -- in this case, shortstop -- so you trade one of your "extra" players to shore up a weakness -- in this case, center field. The Astros did essentially the same thing, but superficially the deal doesn't look nearly as good for them. Yes, they're soft at shortstop, but the player they got is probably at least a year away from making a real contribution. And while they do have a surplus of outfielders, it might well be argued that they traded their best outfielder, rather than an extra one. As you might imagine, a fair percentage of baseball fans and baseball columnists in the fair city of Houston were not pleased with the loss of Carl Everett. Indeed, he played wonderfully last season. But is he truly a wonderful player? Let's look at his last two seasons in Houston:
AB H 2B 3B HR BB
1998 467 138 34 4 15 44
1999 464 151 33 3 25 50
Look at those numbers, and what do you see? Right, you see a pair of stat lines that are very nearly identical, with one exception. Everett added 10 home runs in 1999, and of course that's a considerable improvement. It's the difference between slugging .482 in 1998 and .571 in 1999.
What's more, those were easily his two best seasons. Even after that fine 1998 campaign, Everett's career slugging percentage was just .422, not so hot for a (then) 28-year-old outfielder.
I don't know if Carl Everett will slug .571 in 2000, .422, or somewhere in between. What I do know is that most of the time, when a player makes a GLF (great leap forward) in his late 20s, it's not a true indicator of future performance. Yes, it counts. Everything counts. But given Everett's history, I'm inclined to agree with the STATS, Inc. projection for Everett, which has him hitting 20 home runs and slugging .483 next season (notwithstanding his new home in Boston).
A good player, yes. A better player than Darren Lewis? Undoubtedly. But a great one? Probably not.
Anyway, Everett's out of the picture. That still leaves the Astros with five players to fill three positions. In alphabetical order, those five players are Moises Alou, Derek Bell, Lance Berkman, Richard Hidalgo and Daryle Ward.
With Everett's departure, Hidalgo is apparently a lock for center field. He struggled some last season, batting only .227. But he drew his share of walks, hit for decent power, threw out 15 baserunners and he still projects as a solid hitter. Does Hidalgo have the range necessary for the spacious center field in Houston's new Enron Field? We'll find out, but right now he's the best the Astros have.
That leaves the other four guys for left and right field.
Derek Bell is, I would respectfully submit, one of the most overrated players in the game today. Here are his OPS figures the last four seasons:
1996 729 1997 782 1998 854 1999 656Bell was very good in 1998. Not great, not MVP caliber or anything, but certainly very good. In 1997, he was decent, at best. In 1996, he was terrible. And in 1999, our most recent sample, he was worse than terrible, he might have been the worst player in the National League. According to Houston Chronicle columnist Dale Robertson, "Trade talk put Bell in a funk last offseason, so he decided to spite the Astros by reporting out of shape and out of sorts mentally. Unless he's a complete fool, that won't happen again, because now he's playing for a new contract." Perhaps, but what's missing in that analysis is the fact that, aside from 1998, Bell simply hasn't been a player worthy of all this attention. Perhaps the Astros' team shrink thinks Bell is primed for a fantastic 2000 season. Otherwise, I'd be inclined to trade him for a bucket of batting-practice baseballs, or release him. Because if he's not playing full time next season, he'll be a distraction. Complicating factors abound. The Astros aren't sure if Alou will be completely rehabilitated in time for Opening Day, and they became frustrated with his attitude last season, during which he essentially forsook all contact with the organization. Reports have Daryle Ward currently weighing in the neighborhood of 280 pounds (!), which is a lot even for him. Lance Berkman is the best young hitter on the team, but he's still learning to play the outfield, although indications are the Astros would surely like Berkman to be the starting right fielder. Given all this, I'm forced to admit I don't know what the Astros should do, other than make sure Hidalgo's in the lineup nearly every day. While it looks like the Astros still have too many outfielders, it might turn out that they don't have enough. Let us, for a moment, imagine that Alexader the Great were GM of the Houston Astros. What might he do, faced with this Gordian knot of outfielders, none of them a sure thing? I think he might trade Mike Hampton for a young outfielder who can step into the lineup either in right field or center, along with a pitching prospect. Blasphemy? Perhaps. But Hampton's a free agent after the 2000 season, and his trade value will never be higher than it is right now. The National League Central is not a strong division, and the Astros could probably win the division without Hampton. So why not start thinking about the future now? Before we leave the Astros, I have to ask: Who's in charge of nicknames down there? Because the nicknames for Houston's stars ... well, they're nicknames in name only. Mike Hampton? "Hampy." Jeff Bagwell? "Bags." Craig Biggio? "Bidge." I suppose that, as a "sportswriter," I bear some of the responsibility for this sad state of affairs, as it's actually the scribes who invented most of the great nicknames of yore, nicknames like "Old Reliable" and "Mr. Cub" and "Georgia Peach" and all the rest. Actually, I think the problem started in the 1950s, when the writers actually started reporting what the players said. Once the journalists started reporting from the clubhouses, it was but a small leap to start reporting the players' actual nicknames, boring one like "Hampy" and "Bidge." So I say to my brothers in the fraternity of sports scribes, "Let's get out of the locker room, and instead spend our time doing something productive! Like conjuring colorful monikers for the National Pastimers!" WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 22 Wrapping up a few loose ends from recent columns ... It looks like Junior's going to be in Seattle next season, and it also looks like the Mariners are going to score oodles and boodles of runs. Well, perhaps not oodles and boodles. But definitely oodles or boodles. The last couple of seasons, the line on the M's has been that they scored plenty of runs, but didn't have enough pitching. It was true, but only to a point. The fact is that the Mariners finished fifth in the American League in scoring in 1998 and sixth in 1999. This, after they had led the AL in both 1996 and '97. Yes, Seattle boasts possibly the three finest hitters at their positions in Ken Griffey Jr., Alex Rodriguez and Edgar Martinez. The problem is that, with the decline of Jay Buhner, those three are just about all the Mariners have had. Woody Woodward, the late GM, tried to get by with Brian Hunter and Shane Monahan in the outfield, and Raul Ibanez at first base. And that just wasn't getting it done. Now there's a new sheriff in town, a rugged fellow named Pat Gillick, and things are different. Of course, it helps to have a bigger budget. First, Gillick signed John Olerud, then he signed Stan Javier and Mark McLemore. Now, neither of the latter two are exactly stars, but both will get on base 35 percent of the time, and McLemore in particular gives the M's a leadoff man they've not had since ... well, since before I started paying attention. The Mariners still have a few holes -- left field and third base, and right field if Buhner's not healthy -- but there's no reason this club can't outscore just about every other AL club in 2000. And that should make them contenders. There are a couple of X-factors here. One, a goodly portion of the projected lineup will be older than your favorite ESPN.com columnist who's not Peter Gammons. McLemore's 35, Javier turns 36 in a few weeks, Martinez turns 37 the day after New Year's, Buhner's a 35-year-old man in a 38-year-old body. And two, a goodly portion of the projected pitching rotation is younger than the kid who bagged your groceries last night. Freddy Garcia (17-8, 4.07), John Halama (11-10, 4.22) and Gil Meche (8-4, 4.73) all pitched admirably last year, but none has proven he can make 32-plus starts without breaking something. A few quick notes on clutch hitting, the subject of a lengthy column last Friday. I received an immense amount of mail about that column, probably a record amount. Much to my surprise, the great majority of the reaction was positive, and I only wish I had the time to respond to all of your messages. There were, literally, hundreds of them. Aside from the notes that were purely supportive, you asked three questions: 1. Assuming that there are no "clutch hitters," are their "anti-clutch hitters"? That is, hitters who typically fold in pressure situations. 2. Are there clutch pitchers (and vice versa)? 3. Why did you focus on batting average rather than a meaningful measure of hitting prowess, like OPS? Let me take Question No. 3 first. I didn't focus on batting average, Elias did. I would prefer OPS, but those numbers were not available to me. I did mention Dick Cramer's research, and Cramer actually used a sophisticated method in which he identified every possible game situation, what happened in that particular plate appearance, and then how that plate appearance typically affects a team's chance to win. The way I understand it, according to Cramer's method, if the game is tied in the bottom of the ninth and you draw a bases-loaded walk, that's just as good as hitting a grand slam, because you have increased your team's chances of winning from something less than 100 percent to exactly 100 percent. As for Questions 1 and 2, those are worthwhile areas of study. Personally, I'm not interested enough to spend the countless hours such studies would take, in large part because I suspect they'd be fruitless. But please, do not let that dissuade any of you from tackling the issue. The message here is not that the subject is closed, just because this Neyer character says there's no evidence for clutch hitting. It's not closed by a long shot, and I certainly don't want to be responsible for discouraging further lines of inquiry. And finally, nicknames. As it turns out, the administrators of a fine web site, AstrosConnection, are doing their best to popularize a number of nicknames, mostly for Astros but also for some enemy players. For example, Ryan Klesko is "Donut Truck," due to "his resemblance to a square, unwieldly vehicle when running the bases or chasing down a ball in left field." (Now that I think about it, I can't say that I've ever actually seen a donut truck -- don't they make the pastries right there in the store? -- but it's still funny.) Jose Lima is "El Loco," and general manager Gerry Hunsicker is "Gerry the Hun," for his ability to pillage the rosters of other teams. But my favorite, by far, is Craig Biggio's moniker. Pig-Pen. If that one doesn't catch on with the media, there's something very, very wrong in the press box. I'll do what I can, but hey, this is only the Internet. Speaking of which, I'll be back Friday with a special column, so junk those pesky holiday plans and spend some time with your second-favorite baseball columnist instead. FRIDAY, DECEMBER 24 For better or worse, most of my early childhood is forgotten, if not barely remembered, then rarely remembered. But about this time every year, I recall perfectly a December day back in 1973. The day I discovered ... The Truth About Santa Claus. Second grade. Fargo, North Dakota. I was seven years old, and I still believed in Santa Claus, a.k.a. Santy Claus (as my grandmother called him), a.k.a. Kris Kringle. During an indoors recess, I was hanging around with a couple of my classmates (their names now long forgotten), and one of these apprentice miscreants spilled the beans, exuding condescension with every syllable. "You know, there's no Santa Claus." I initially defended the existence of Mr. Claus, but my ill-conceived defense wilted quickly. After all, I'd certainly had my suspicions. My old man liked to watch "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom" on TV, and when Marlin Perkins and Jim Fowler went up North, somehow they never seemed to run across a fat man in a red suit. Plus, "Santa" always seemed to be hanging around shopping malls rather than supervising elves up at the toy factory, and my mother's labored explanations didn't sound quite right to this future fan of Occam's Razor. Yes, all these things scared me a little. Still, I was seven and I wanted to believe, just like otherwise intelligent adults want to believe in clutch hitters and guardian angels, at least one of which is just as implausible as a jolly old fellow delivering presents to all the world's children in a 24-hour period. As much as I did want to believe, however, all it took was another seven-year-old kid to tell me that Santa Claus was as fake as a G.I. Joe toting an AK-47, and suddenly I knew everything was a lie. A big fat lie wearing a shiny red suit. And it hurt, it hurt a lot, even if I didn't connect my parents to the big fat lie, at least consciously. That happened in the morning. I toddled home for lunch with my little brother, a year younger than I. If you ever had a little brother or sister, you probably already know what happened next. Once Mom had unwrapped the many layers of winter clothing -- North Dakota is mighty inhospitable in December -- I told him. "You know, there's no Santa Claus." I said it with as much condescension as I could muster, and it had the desired effect. He would feel my pain, plus a little more. Finally, sweet retribution for stealing my mother's attention when I was but 13 months old. That was 26 years ago, and I think Eric is close to forgiving me. While that day still sticks in my brain, I do not remember where I was the day I found out my favorite baseball team would essentially no longer be allowed to compete for division titles. Nor do I remember who told me. Maybe I even figured this one out for myself. But I'll tell you what, it hurt a lot more than the debunking of Santa Claus, and it still hurts. Every damn day. This Christmas, I live in a Land of Plenty. I've got a waterproof roof over my head, more good friends than I deserve, a satellite dish, and enough books to last the rest of my natural life. I have, truth be told, not just everything that I need, but almost everything that I have ever wanted, save perhaps the wife and the 2.2 kids, all of them cute as buttons. And I don't think Santa Claus can help with that, nor do I think Goodwill Among All Men is within his powers. However, I do think that such a magical fellow should be able to get 30 white multi-millionaires, many of them as fat as Santa himself, into a meeting room to agree on something important. And you know what? I've been a pretty good boy this year, so I figure ol' Santy Claus owes me. My Christmas list, notarized and mailed off to the North Pole weeks ago, consists of just one item ...
Little Robbie Neyer Oh, those poor Houston Astros. They can't afford to re-sign Mike Hampton, so they're forced to trade him to the wealthy New York Metropolitans. The rich get richer, right? Well, that's one way of looking at it. But it's not the way that I would look at it. Mike Hampton's a good pitcher. Shoot, maybe he's even a great one. But what did the Astros do here? In trading Hampton and Derek Bell, they (1) freed up more than $10 million; (2) they dumped a terrible outfielder who didn't want to be there; and (3) they acquired two young players in Roger Cedeno and Octavio Dotel who make almost nothing and could be big contributors in the coming seasons. The fact is that the Astros did not budget enough money in 2001 for a new contract for Hampton when he becomes a free agent. That left them with three options. One, they could trade him now. Two, they could trade him during the 2000 season. Three, they could keep him all season, then lose him to free agency. The third of those options was apparently unacceptable to Astros GM Gerry Hunsicker, a.k.a. Gerry the Hun. The second of those is problematic in the extreme. What if the Astros are in the middle of a pennant race come next July? Hunsicker would be roasted on a spit if he traded his No. 1 starter. So that leaves the first option -- and the best. I mean, if you're an Astros fan, what's not to like about this one? Yes, Octavio Dotel posted a 5.38 ERA last season. And Roger Cedeno has little power, and may never again do what he did last year. But Dotel has a great arm, and may well thrive under the tutelage of Larry Dierker and Vern Ruhle. Cedeno is also natural center fielder, and at 25 he still has room to grow. To tell you the truth, I think that Dotel and Cedeno for Hampton alone would have been a good deal for the Astros ... yet, somehow, Hunsicker managed to foist Bell (and his $5 million salary) upon the Mets as well. Will Hampton help the Mets? Yes, he probably will. But he's not going to win 20 games again, and Hunsicker did a fantastic job of getting the most for Hampton when his value is highest. There was, of course, another big trade last week. Now, as you know, when comparing players I like to look at a little metric -- I can't call it a"statistic" because it's really not one -- called OPS. For those two of you visiting for the first time, and for the others who simply haven't been paying attention (at all), OPS stands for on-base percentage plus slugging percentage. Why do I bring all this up again? Because when we evaluate the Braves-Padres trade, we can't just look at the on-base percentages of the players involved, as convenient as it might be. The Braves, of course, get Quilvio Veras, and he'll be the new leadoff man. Veras' posted a .368 on-base percentage last season, which wasn't among the league leaders but shames all the guys the Braves used at the top of the order last year. Atlanta also acquired Reggie Sanders, and his .376 OBP shames the Braves who batted No. 2 last year. (I don't know where they plan to use Sanders, but I'd put him in that slot, strikeouts or no strikeouts.) In 1999, Atlanta's leadoff hitters combined for a .318 OBP, which ranked next-to-last in the NL. Their No. 2 hitters had a .312 OBP, which also ranked next-to-last. So it looks like Veras and Sanders will be a big improvement. But the fact is that lineup construction means much less than most people think. Essentially, what matters is how good the hitters are, not where in the lineup they hit. And Bret Boone's 726 OPS last season wasn't much worse than Quilvio Veras' 747. Veras is almost exactly three years younger than Boone, a big factor in the former's favor. Boone won a Gold Glove just two seasons ago, a big factor in his favor. There is another obvious variable here, and that's the players' home ballparks. San Diego's Qualcomm Stadium has been, in recent seasons, a great pitcher's park, while Atlanta's Turner Field has merely been a very good one. All things considered, then, Boone for Veras is probably a good swap for the Braves, assuming can stay reasonably healthy. But it's something less than a slam dunk. Now, the swap of Sanders for Klesko. Interestingly enough, Sanders and Klesko posted identical OBPs (.376), and their slugging percentages were virtually the same, .527 for Sanders and .532 for Klesko. That said, Sanders obviously had a better year with the stick, as he played in a tougher ballpark, and was not platooned, as Klesko was. Their career stats are similar. When it comes to age, this time the Padres come out ahead. Klesko's 28, Sanders is 32. Neither of them are particularly durable, but Sanders is chronically gimpy. He's been in the majors since 1992, and had never played more than 138 games in a season. If he can stay in the lineup next season, he's going to be a big help. If he can't, the Braves just might miss Klesko's bat. Defensively, of course, Sanders has it all over Klesko. Sanders has good range and can play any outfield position, while Klesko is miscast in left field, or just about anywhere else on the field aside from the batter's box. Yes, I know I've failed to mention "the speed factor" and I apologize. Much as I might tend to downplay stolen bases, they do count, as does general baserunning effectiveness. In 1999, Sanders and Veras combined for 66 steals (30 caught), Boone and Klesko combined for 19 steals (11 caught). Now, the difference between those figures is something less than you probably think, but one would assume that Sanders' and Veras' greater foot speed leads to other benefits. Summing up, then, if the deal had been Boone and Klesko for Veras and Sanders, straight up, then the edge goes to the Braves, but not by an overwhelming margin. However, there are two more players involved. The Braves get first baseman Wally Joyner, and the Padres get minor-league pitcher Jason Shiell. Frankly, I don't really see what the Braves would want with Joyner, who was awful last year. Yes, he was hurt and should be better next season, but the Braves already have a perfectly decent left-handed-hitting first baseman in Randall Simon. Shiell doesn't look like anything special, at least not from a quick glance at the stats. He'll be 24 next season, and spent all of last season in Class A. What does all this mean for the Braves? If Javy Lopez comes back at full strength, and if Galarraga and/or Joyner are productive, and if Andruw Jones continues to develop ... why, then the Braves have the best lineup in the National League. If two of those things happen, they still cruise to yet another East title. If one of those things happens, they don't clinch until late September. And if none of those things happen? Why, they just might be in for a fight from the Phillies and/or the Mets. |  | |||||||