THURSDAY, APRIL 26
Dipping into the mail pouch for some reaction to yesterday's column about the home runs that Willie Mays hit, and didn't hit ...

Hey, Rob --

Good column today.

Are there any home run hitters out there the truly were hurt by their home stadium? It seems that the math always shows that "so-and-so would not have demolished Ruth's records if he hadn't played in [insert exaggerated, cavernous ballpark of choice], as we all have thought."

I think I secretly hoped that Mike Schmidt would have eclipsed 800 outside of Veterans Stadium, but his adjusted number is only 577 (29 more than actual).

Anyone else? Or are all parks actually essentially equal, as far as homers go?

Thanks,
Ken
Brookline, MA

It's funny, Ken. People tend to either ignore ballpark effects completely, or exaggerate them to an absurd degree. The latter, of course, usually happens when an old baseball writer is trying to inflate the reputation of somebody he covered back in the 1960s.

To argue that Slugger X would have out-homered Ruth if he'd played in a different ballpark, you have to show that (1) Slugger X actually had the requisite ability; and (2) that Slugger X was actually hindered greatly by his home park. And that's a tall order, a tall order indeed. Why? Because Mays is the only player within 125 home runs of Ruth -- Frank Robinson is No. 4 on the list, with 586 -- and as we found yesterday, Mays' home ballparks didn't really hurt him. (I will say this, though ... if Mays hadn't spent nearly two seasons in the Army, he might well have passed Ruth before Aaron did.)

Whose home-run totals were hurt most by their home ballparks? By my count, 87 men have hit 300 or more home runs in the major leagues. I entered the home and road totals for each of them. Here the five with the lowest percentage of homers at home:

             TotalHR   Home HR   Pct HR@Home
Joe Adcock     336       137         40.8  
Joe DiMaggio   361       148         41.0
George Brett   317       148         42.9
Boog Powell    339       150         44.2
Juan Gonzalez  369       164         44.4

How about the big boppers, the guys with at least 500 homers?

             TotalHR   Home HR   Pct HR@Home
Ed. Mathews    512       238         46.5    
Ted Williams   521       248         47.6
Eddie Murray   504       242         48.0
Mike Schmidt   548       265         48.4
Babe Ruth      714       347         48.6

None of these guys were seriously hurt by their home parks. You might be surprised to see Ruth on this list, given the short porch in Yankee Stadium; in the Babe's day, it was only 295 feet down the right-field line, and of course Ruth was a pull hitter. However, the distance quickly increased as the wall made its irregular way to center field. It was still only 350 feet to short right-center, but 429 to deep right-center, and a whopping 490 feet to straightaway center. We can be sure that Ruth hit some long fly balls in the gloves of not only center fielders, but right fielders, too. (Same for Lou Gehrig, who also batted left-handed but hit only nine more homers at home than on the road.)

And the other side of the coin? Let's split the difference, and see which of the 400-homer men have seemingly benefited the most from their home parks:

             TotalHR   Home HR   %HR@Home
Mel Ott        511       323       63.2     
Bi. Williams   426       245       57.5
Ernie Banks    512       290       56.6
Jimmie Foxx    534       299       56.0 
Ra. Palmeiro   405       223       55.1

The most interesting thing about this list is that two of the top three spots are held by career-long Cubs. What's more, Ron Santo hit 63 percent of his 337 homers as a Cub at Wrigley Field.

Rob,

Did I just hear you refer to Roger Kahn as someone who "spouts nonsense?"

Wow, that is laughable to say the least. That would be like Matt Franco or Andy Fox telling Tony Gwynn he was good at one time, but now he's just a broken-down piece of junk. This is why people have such a hard time finding you likeable. All Kahn did was state a harmless opinion. Never mind the fact that he was there for all the things that he wrote about in that article, while you weren't. Not respecting readers and fans is one thing, but not respecting a man who's covered baseball as well as Roger Kahn has over the years is pathetic. I'm sure you'll say you have all the respect for him in the world and all that, but if you did you wouldn't make such a stupid statement. Roger Kahn spouting nonsense and Rob Neyer correcting him? The apocalypse is now officially upon us.

-- A Mets fan

Well, first off, my mom thinks that I'm pretty darn likeable. Or at least she says she does. And I have a few friends. Well, maybe a couple.

Look, when Jack Nicklaus plays a golf tournament, is he allowed to ignore the rules because of his lofty place in the sport's history? Did defensive linemen take it easy on Dan Marino in his last season? When Tony Gwynn steps to the plate, is he permitted to call for a thigh-high pitch down the middle? Roger Kahn has written one great book ("The Boys of Summer") and a few good ones, but as long as he's still out there writing, competing in the marketplace of ideas, his work deserves at least a moderate amount of scrutiny. In fact, I might argue that Kahn deserves more scrutiny than, say, somebody like Rob Neyer. Because when Roger Kahn talks, people listen.

A fair number of you consider yourself "Rob Neyer fans," and for that I'm deeply grateful. And I've got a favor to ask of you ... When I'm Roger Kahn's age, please don't give me a free pass. Because a free pass means that you don't respect me any more, that you think that my age and my reputation trump the truth of whatever I might be writing. And when that happens, I might as well trade in my keyboard for shuffleboard.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 25
You've heard of grade inflation? Well, it seems that homer inflation is all the rage with my colleagues these days. Just a couple of weeks ago, one baseball writer suggested that if Willie Stargell hadn't spent roughly half his career in Forbes Field, he would have hit 600 home runs rather than 475. The actual figure is much closer to 500.

And Monday in the New York Times, on the op-ed page of all places, an editorialist wrote an ode to Willie Mays, and he included the following:

[Author Roger] Kahn believes that if the Giants had stayed in New York, Mays would have eclipsed Babe Ruth's home-run records, eventually hitting more than 60 in one season and more than the Babe's career 714.

"I wrote that if Willie had stayed in the Polo Grounds, he would have hit 800 home runs," said Kahn.

But the Giants moved to San Francisco after the 1957 season and Mays, as Kahn put it, "ended up in the worst ballpark in the major leagues."

Despite the frigid temperatures and the notoriously mean winds that plagued Candlestick Park, Mays continued to flourish. His career statistics are incredible, and would have been even greater if his home park for most of his career had been reasonably normal.

Thirty years ago, Roger Kahn was a great writer, and he's still a pretty good one. But numbers have never been one of his strong suits.

First of all, it's fairly easy to estimate how many home runs Willie Mays would have hit if he'd spent his career in a "reasonably normal" home park (assuming, of course, that he didn't). We simply double his road home runs, and add a few -- say, two percent? -- to account for the natural home-field advantage.

Well, Willie Mays hit 325 road home runs in his career. If we double 325, and multiply that product by two percent, we arrive at 663 ... which is exactly three home runs more than Mays actually hit.

Oops.

It's actually kind of interesting. People have these nostalgic memories of Willie Mays playing in the Polo Grounds, probably because his most famous moment -- "The Catch" in Game 1 of the 1954 World Series -- came there. But Mays spent a relatively small percentage of his career in the Polo Grounds. He came up in late May of 1951. He spent most of 1952 and all of 1953 in the U.S. Army. The Giants moved to San Francisco in 1958. But they didn't move into Candlestick Park in 1958, because it wasn't yet built. The San Francisco Giants spent their first two years in Seals Stadium, which was a pretty good pitcher's park. In his two years there, Mays hit 32 home runs at home, and 31 on the road.

Mays' home-run splits, then, look like this through 1959:

Home HR   Road HR
  126       124

So it looks like Willie's first two home ballparks were eminently fair, at least in terms of his power numbers.

The Giants moved to Candlestick in 1960, and Mays moved right along with them. So how'd he do? Here are Willie's home/road homer splits from 1960 through 1971 (he was traded to the Mets early in the '72 season):

Home HR   Road HR
  202       194

Yes, in a dozen seasons Mays actually homered more at Candlestick than he did in road games.

Was Mays an oddity? Did he somehow figure out a way to take advantage of Candlestick? Well, during all of Mays' years there, he teamed with the amazing Willie McCovey. Here are McCovey's home/road splits from 1960 through '71:

Home HR   Road HR
  183       175

Hmm. We've checked two prodigious power hitters, and both did quite well in Candlestick. And the rest of the Giants? Here are the totals for Mays' and McCovey's teammates over those 12 seasons:

Home HR   Road HR
  583       572

Amazing. Mays hit four percent more homers at Candlestick than he did in road games. McCovey hit five percent more homers at Candlestick. Their teammates hit two percent more homers at Candlestick.

In his latest autobiography, Orlando Cepeda said, "On September 17, 1964, I turned twenty-seven years old. I had hit .300 or better six of my seven major league seasons. I already had 222 home runs, an average of more than 30 per year. There probably would have been more had it not been for the wind and chill of Candlestick Park. Bob Stevens, who covered the Giants for many years, pointed this fact out during batting practice recently. Mays, McCovey, and I, all of us, could have added about sixty more career home runs playing in another ballpark."

This is interesting for a couple of reasons. One, it's a bit strange of Cepeda to compare himself to Mays and McCovey. Because while the latter two spent a dozen seasons together at Candlestick, Cepeda was only there for about five seasons. And in those five seasons? Eighty-five home runs at home, 86 home runs on the road.

To tell you the truth, I didn't know exactly what I'd find when I started up with all these computations. I knew Mays had actually done pretty well in Candlestick, but I had no idea that Candlestick was, at worst, essentially neutral for power hitters. And this got me to me to wondering, how did this start? Why did this notion, so obviously false, become Common Wisdom among sportswriters of a certain vintage?

Willie Mays was blessed with two outstanding biographers, in Arnold Hano and Charles Einstein. In "Willie Mays" (Grosset & Dunlap, 1966), Hano wrote, "The source of Mays' trouble [in 1960] is evident. He hit .299 in San Francisco and a rousing .338 on the road. He had 12 home runs at home and 17 away ... The wind, she blew -- from left and out to right -- and Mays had to shift his feet to hit every ball down the right-field line. On the road, he had to rearrange himself again. Wally Moon said that balls hit to left field acted as if they were on rubber bands. They just stopped in mid-air and bounced back to the infield. Don Blasingame said the wind made popfly hitters out of strong right-handed batters."

In Charles Einstein's as-told-to book ("Willie Mays: My Life In and Out of Baseball," 1966), he and Mays wrote,

Candlestick was bigger [than Seals Stadium]. Hell, Candlestick was too big. First day I ever came to bat there, in hitting practice the day before the '60 season opened, it was windy and raw, and whoever was pitching threw me a fat slider and I swung and looked and I was holding just the thin handle of the bat in my hand. The ball had sawed my bat in two!

They made changes the following year, bringing the fences in and putting up a green backdrop behind center field so the hitters could see the ball better, which was important because the Giants play more day games than any other team except the Cubs, who have no lights in their park.

Now we're getting somewhere. I consulted Philip Lowry's book, "Green Cathedrals," which is the single best source for data on ballparks. In 1960, Candlestick's dimensions were:

 LF  LCF   CF  RCF   RF
330  397  420  397  335

A tough ballpark for power hitters, no question. Nearly 400 feet to the power alleys in left- and right-center fields, which meant a lot of long, long fly-ball outs. But in 1961, the dimensions were changed:

 LF  LCF   CF  RCF   RF
330  365  410  375  335

Still 330 and 335 down the lines, but 10 feet closer to straightaway center field, 22 feet closer in right-center, and 32 feet closer in left-center. Today, there is only one National League ballpark with such a cozy left-field fence: Enron Field, a.k.a. Home Run Field.

Is there any reason to think that Mays didn't benefit from the new hitting background, and the new dimensions? Is there any reason to think that Willie McCovey and Orlando Cepeda didn't benefit from the new dimensions? Pull the fences in 20 or 30 feet, and what power hitter wouldn't benefit?

At home in 1960, the Giants hit 46 homers ... fewest in the National League. On the road in 1960, the Giants hit 84 home runs ... most in the National League.

On the road in 1961, the Giants hit 86 home runs, virtually the same as they'd done in 1960. But at home in 1961, the Giants hit 97 home runs, virtually twice as many as they'd hit the year before.

The evidence for Candlestick as a tough home-run park consists of exactly one season. The evidence for Candlestick as a decent home-run park consists of many, many seasons. Yet somehow, it's the image of Candlestick as a tough home-run park that has endured. Why?

I can think of a few reasons.

1. "The older I get, the better I was ... "
Old ballplayers naturally tend to exaggerate their accomplishments, and overestimate the barriers they faced. Jose Canseco really thinks that Oakland's ballpark cost him 15 or 20 home runs per season when he played there, and Orlando Cepeda really thinks that Candlestick cost him 10 homers per season. They tell their stories enough times, and people believe them. I don't have Mays' last autobiography, published in 1988, but I wouldn't at all be surprised to find that Mays now thinks that Candlestick cost him a shot at Ruth's record.

2. The power of first impressions
Not long ago, I read about a psychological study on the power of first impressions. It seems that we tend to form strong impressions within a few seconds of meeting somebody, and these impressions tend to endure, even in the face of mounting evidence to the contrary. The same thing, I think, happened with Candlestick. It was a tough park for power hitters in 1960. And we humans have such impressionable, rigid minds that many of those who were there in 1960 just couldn't adjust to the "new" Candlestick, the Candlestick with dimensions tailor-made for a right-handed slugger like Willie Mays.

3. "These players today just don't measure up."
The 1950s and 1960s have been romanticized by the journalists who grew up then, and many of them loved Willie Mays (and secondarily, Cepeda and McCovey). It offends them to see so many modern players hitting oodles of home runs. And so like a team of lawyers presenting a case, these journalists marshal every bit of evidence to support their old heroes, even if the "evidence" isn't really evidence at all. I do think that Roger Kahn really believes that Mays would have broken Ruth's record if he hadn't been in Candlestick. But he's wrong, and shouldn't be allowed to spout such nonsense without getting called on it.

In the New York Times editorial mentioned at the top of this column, writer Bob Herbert leads off with, "He was probably the best baseball player ever," so we should know what to expect after that, right? Herbert closes with, "The Say Hey Kid is nearly 70. Those who saw him play still speak of him with awe. I think that he was the greatest ever, and I worry that before long the grandeur that he brought to the game will be all but completely forgotten."

Bob Herbert is 55 years old, and he's afraid that one of the heroes of his youth -- and perhaps by extension, Herbert himself -- will be forgotten. Perfectly natural. Writers are human, too. But that doesn't mean we have to believe everything that we're told about Herbert's heroes.

Willie Mays just might have been the greatest ever. I still favor Babe Ruth, but you can certainly make a case for Mays. To suggest that Mays would have hit 800 home runs, if only he'd played in a "fair" ballpark, serves only to damage the credibility of Mays' case, because the informed baseball fan in the 21st century is going to know better.

TUESDAY, APRIL 24
Below are Rick Ankiel's last three starts of the 2000 regular season:

Date       IP   H   W  SO  WP  HB
9/13/00   6.2   7   0  11   0   0
9/20/00   7.0   4   2   8   0   0 
9/27/00   6.0   5   2   8   0   0
Totals   19.2  16   4  27   0   0

Ankiel won all three of those starts, pushing his record to 11-7, and finished second to Rafael Furcal in Rookie of the Year balloting. Then came the postseason ...

Date       IP   H   W  SO  WP  HB
10/03/00  2.2   4   6   3   5   0
10/14/00  0.2   1   3   1   2   0 
10/16/00  0.2   0   2   1   2   0
Totals    4.0   5  11   5   9   0

Well, at least he didn't hit anybody. And let history remember that the Cardinals actually won the first of those games. They lost his second start, but Ankiel wasn't involved in the decision. And they lost his third appearance, but Ankiel could hardly be blamed, as he gave up one run in relief in the middle of a 7-0 loss.

Spring training was rocky, though we were assured by sportswriters and Ankiel's teammates that his strength of character would cure his ills. Well, here are his first three starts of the 2001 season:

Date       IP   H   W  SO  WP  HB
4/08/01   5.0   3   3   8   0   0
4/14/01   5.0   5   5   6   2   1 
4/20/01   3.0   3   5   2   0   2
Totals   13.0  11  13  16   2   3

One major media outlet described Ankiel's first start as "a lights-out effort." Another called it "splendid." Both labels seemed a bit extreme. After all, it was only five innings, and Ankiel did walk three hitters, which is three more than Greg Maddux has walked all season. Still, one could reasonably argue that Ankiel is actually making progress, if you look at his three starts together. Two wild pitches in 13 games is not a good ratio, but it's certainly better than what happened last October.

On the other hand, 13 walks and three hit batters in 13 innings is intolerable. Cards pitching coach Dave Duncan summed up the situation nicely when he said, after Ankiel's start last Thursday, "I went to the library, and there wasn't a book on how to solve this problem. I don't think there has been one written."

St. Louis Post-Dispatch columnist Dan O'Neill has an idea, though. Sunday, he wrote, "Why are the Cardinals forcing the issue? The place for Ankiel to work out his control problems is the minor leagues, where you can afford to gamble games, where you can sacrifice overall success for the developmental good of the individual, where players are supposed to work out the kinks."

O'Neill's idea is just a theory, but I think it's a good one. Ankiel is a 21-year-old pitcher who hasn't looked good against major-league hitters since last September, and where do most 21-year-old pitchers belong? Right. The minor leagues.

I've got my own theories.

The first is that Ankiel is suffering some sort of emotional problem, which isn't far-fetched given both his background and his incredible rise through the professional ranks; remember, last year he became the first 20-year-old to start 20 games in the majors since 1990. Growing pains should be expected, not unsurprising. Presumably, Ankiel is spending some quality time with a psychologist. And you know, those guys don't specialize in overnight results.

The second is that Ankiel is suffering some sort of undiagnosed physical problem. One would assume that he's already been poked and prodded more than a yearling on the auction block, with no untoward results. But sometimes doctors, even the best of them, miss things. And I certainly wouldn't be shocked to learn, in a week or a month or a year, that something unnatural is happening within the dark recesses of Ankiel's shoulder or elbow.

Whatever the problem or problems might be, I agree with Dan O'Neill. While it's possible returning to the minor leagues might damage Ankiel's confidence, this has to be weighed against (1) the damage done to Ankiel's confidence by pitching in the major leagues; and (2) the damage done to the Cardinals' pennant chances by Ankiel pitching in the major leagues.

And what about the writers? I believe that journalists are duty-bound to report and editorialize on the subject, because it's "news." However, I don't believe writers should surround Ankiel in the locker room, because nothing positive will result from asking him the same questions, again and again. And while Ankiel has been avoiding the media as much as possible, will even a single reader gain anything from the same questions and the same answers? Probably not. I know that a fair number of my colleagues read this column from time to time, and my message to them is, "It's OK to report on the kid. But let's not torture him."

MONDAY, APRIL 23
No, the Atlanta Braves aren't in quite the fix that the Athletics and White Sox find themselves. But last place is not a position to which the Braves are accustomed.

Rob, could you fix the Braves? Please? I was afraid they were gonna have trouble on offense this year, but ... whoa! This team is hitting so bad I find myself wishing they'd signed Mike Hampton ... to play left field. I don't even get to pick on the anticipated scapegoat Rico Brogna, because he's the only one hitting! My favorite stat, through 19 games? Andruw Jones has 4 RBI. Wanna guess how many home runs he's hit? Any suggestions? Matt McCamish

Patience, Matt. Patience. It's still early, and something tells me that the Phillies won't still be sitting atop the East standings at, say, the All-Star break.

I can understand your worries, though. There are 16 teams in the National League, and 15 of them have scored more runs than the Braves. (By the way, here's one positive note for you: 14 National League teams have scored more runs than the Mets.) And as you suggest, Brogna's just about the only Brave hitting worth beans. The chart below lists each of the eight regulars' OPS from last season, their OPS this season, and the difference between the two figures:

                2000   2001    Diff
Javy Lopez       821    670    -151
Rico Brogna      635    860    +225
Quilvio Veras    822    360    -462
Rafael Furcal    776    580    -194
Chipper Jones    970    879    - 91
B.J. Surhoff     787    556    -231
Andruw Jones     907    849    - 58
Brian Jordan     741    548    -193

Those numbers tell the story. Of the eight regulars, only Brogna is doing better than he did last year. And even that's a bit misleading, because he wasn't a Brave last year. He's replacing Andres Galarraga, who posted an 895 OPS last season. So as good as Brogna's been, he doesn't represent an improvement for the Braves over last year. So the Braves are essentially worse, through 19 games, at all eight positions.

Which ain't easy, even if you're trying.

The question, of course, is whether this can continue. And of course, it cannot.

Javy Lopez is blaming his poor performance on the fact that he and the Braves haven't worked out a deal for next season (and beyond), but the more likely culprit is the small sample size. Unless he's hiding an injury or something, you can put Lopez down for 25 homers along with an 800-plus OPS.

Quilvio Veras isn't this bad. Nobody is. After going 0-for-3 yesterday, he's batting .120 in 15 games. Granted, Veras was a bit over his head last year, but he wasn't that far over his head.

Rafael Furcal ... well, we don't really know, do we? Yes, it's unlikely that 2000's National League Rookie of the Year will finish the season with a .247 OBP. But given that we don't know how old Furcal is, and given that Rookies of the Year typically suffer a drop-off the next season, it's certainly not unreasonable to assume that Furcal won't match last year's numbers.

Andruw Jones and Chipper Jones have both been a bit off their 2000 production, but not so much as anybody'd notice. And yes, Andruw Jones has four homers and four RBI, but that's just a statistical fluke. If the Braves have a sure offensive thing, it's that the Joneses of 2001 will keep up with the Joneses of 2000.

B.J. Surhoff and Brian Jordan both represent danger signs if you're a Braves fan. Surhoff's an average left fielder who turns 36 in a few months, and average players in their mid-30s can turn into below-average players in an awful hurry. Jordan has, to this point, been a complete disaster for the Braves. They signed him after his best season -- his only great season -- and in the two years since, Jordan's been plagued by injuries and poor performance. Jordan makes $7 million, Surhoff's signed through 2002, and the Braves have nobody in the minors to replace them, even if they could dump the contracts.

Yes, the Braves have some holes. Last year they finished sixth in the National League in run production, and this year they might drop a spot or three. But last year the Braves finished first in run prevention, and if they can do that again -- at this writing, they're sixth, but within striking distance of the leaders -- then they'll win another East title.

Yes, the Braves are in last place. But they're only a game behind the second-place Expos. And while the Braves are four games out of first place, four games doesn't seem like so many when it's the Phillies they're trying to catch.

THURSDAY, APRIL 19
Below, the teams with the five worst records since the All-Star break in 1997:

Devil Rays  .410
Expos       .414
Twins       .424
Marlins     .424
Royals      .429

The Twins and Marlins are truly tied, both of them with 244-331 records over this span. The Royals have little competition for the No. 5 spot, as the Pirates are No. 6 on the list, but 20 points better than Kansas City with a .449 winning mark.

(In case anyone's curious, the Braves and Yankees far out-distance everyone else when it comes to the best records since the '97 All-Star break, at .617 and .615, respectively.)

Now, look at that list again. At the top, your Tampa Bay Devil Rays. They didn't actually exist until 1998, and have looked like nothing but an expansion team since. Wednesday, manager Larry Rothschild got the axe, as usually happens to managers who manage only 201 victories over a three-season span (1998-2000). However, the firing of Rothschild, whether it was merited or not, says something unflattering about Rothschild's ex-bosses. Did he somehow forget everything he knew about managing in the last two weeks? Or, if he wasn't the man for the job, didn't GM Chuck Lamar know it last winter?

Surprised to see the Expos with a .414 winning percentage? I know this is heresy, but I can't help but think that maybe the manager in Montreal isn't wearing any clothes. Yes, the Expos have been hamstrung by poor management and just plain old poorness, but if Felipe Alou were really one of baseball's best managers -- as many argue -- then wouldn't the Expos have won a few more games over the last three-and-a-half seasons? Say, as many as the Tigers, or the Brewers, or the Phillies?

Next we've got the Twins and the Marlins.

The Marlins' record is seriously marred by their 54-108 record in 1998, one season removed from their World Championship. They lost 98 games in 1999, then made real progress last year with a 79-83 record. I'm not particularly optimistic about them in the short term, but their long-term prospects look pretty good, if ownership loosens the purse strings a bit.

And the Twins? They just might have the worst owner in the game. Carl Pohlad is baseball's richest magnate, yet he refuses to spend any of his own money on the team; in fact, it's widely believed that he's making money with the Twins. Does that excuse Tom Kelly from all responsibility? Well, it seems to me that if you're going to give credit to managers of good teams with high payrolls, then you have to give at least a little blame to managers of bad teams with low payrolls.

I've never really understood why managers of teams like Montreal and Minnesota get a free pass. No, they're not going to win 100 games, or even 90. But look at the Expos and Twins over the last four seasons. The Expos haven't won even 70 games in a season since 1997. The Twins haven't won more than 70 games since 1996. I know that times are tough, but wouldn't a great manager find a way to win, say, 75 games every once in a while?

And that brings me to the actual subject of this column: Tony Muser, and the Kansas City Royals. The Kansas City Royals, as many of you know, are my favorite team, have been since I was 10 years old. I suppose that sportswriters aren't supposed to have favorite teams, but it's not something I can control. Until a couple of years ago, I wrote about the Royals in this space quite often, but then I found another outlet for that material, which is probably better for everyone involved.

But let me tell you, folks ... Tony Muser just might be the worst manager in the major leagues. Or, rather, he just might be the last manager in the major leagues who should be managing the Kansas City Royals.

At the All-Star break in 1997, Bob Boone was fired as manager of the Royals, and Tony Muser was hired. The firing of Bob Boone struck me as eminently sensible; the team wasn't playing well -- they were 36-46, after finishing last, for the first time in franchise history -- the previous season. Boone would drive you nuts, tried to control every bit of action on the field, and didn't like to play the kids. Those of you in Cincinnati may already know what I'm talking about. Anyway, I didn't know much about Muser, except that he'd been a hitting coach in the major leagues, and was involved in a nasty locker-room explosion back in 1986 that left him severely burned. But I figured anything would be an improvement over Boone.

Little did I know.

Teams often surge, if only briefly, when a new sheriff arrives in town. Not the Royals, though. They were 36-46 under Bob Boone in the first half, and 31-48 under Tony Muser in the second half. That 31-48 second-half record was the second worst in the majors; only the Athletics were worse, at 28-45 in the second half.

And aside from last season, when the Royals managed to win 77 games, it's just been more of the same. As Rany Jazayerli points out, Muser's .429 career winning percentage is worse than Bob Boone's worst single-season winning percentage (.439 in that half-1997).

With Muser at the helm, exactly one good thing has happened to the Royals: four young hitters have developed. Mike Sweeney and Jermaine Dye both played in the All-Star Game last summer, Mark Quinn just might be the club's lone representative this season, and you know about Johnny Damon. Five, if you count Carlos Beltran, who was the Rookie of the Year in 1999 but struggled badly in 2000.

As a result, the Royals actually finished fifth in the American League in run production last year, ahead of -- believe it or not -- both the Yankees and the Blue Jays. (And yes, I know that Kauffman Stadium is a great hitter's park, but I'm trying to make a point here.) That said, there were warning signs for anyone who cared to notice them. The Royals finished 13th in the American League in home runs, and 14th (otherwise known as "last") in the American League in walks.

But let's give credit where we can. Muser, the ex-hitting coach, put a pretty good offense on the field last year, especially considering how little money that offense was making.

So Muser's done his job. Maybe he was exactly what the Royals needed in 1997 and 1998, when Sweeney and Damon and Dye were still figuring things out. Shoot, maybe he was even useful in 1999. But there's very little figuring left to be done. Left fielder Dee Brown is a good hitting prospect, but otherwise the well's basically dry. Now, the Royals need to keep the hitters they've got and build an effective pitching staff.

Unfortunately, Tony Muser shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a pitching staff. If I had a son who pitched in Little League, I wouldn't let him play for a team managed by Tony Muser. If Tony Muser and I co-managed a Rotisserie team, I would send him out for cold beverages when it came time to bid on pitchers. If I were a pitcher, and Tony Muser and I were stranded on a desert island ... well, you get the idea.

If there's been one constant for the Royals since Muser arrived -- well, aside from the paucity of walks drawn by the hitters -- it's been lousy pitching. The starters have been lousy, and the relievers have been lousy. Especially the relievers. It doesn't really matter who the relievers are; as soon as they put on the uniform, they become lousy. Or if they already were lousy, they become lousier. Now, it's not like Muser has been blessed, as Lou Piniella has been this year, with Kazuhiro Sasaki and a platoon of outstanding set-up men. Still, if you're looking for a good test of a manager, it's whether or not he can construct an effective bullpen. Because there are loads of guys out there who can throw two good pitches with some measure of consistency, and that's all you need to be a decent relief pitcher.

Yet Muser's never had a good bullpen. Here's how the K.C. relievers have fared in his three full seasons:

       ERA (Rank) 
1998  4.98 (12)   
1999  5.75 (13)
2000  5.57 (13)

Other bullpens go up and down in the annual rankings, but there the Royals hover, right near the bottom, as dependable as a '97 Accord. In this era, relief pitching is about roles; figuring out which guys belong where, and then letting them do their jobs. But under Muser, nobody has a role for more than a week or two, because with a bad outing or two, you go to the back of the line.

And the starters? Muser's record with young starting pitchers is awful. He habitually overworks whoever's pitching well, and shows no patience with whoever's not. Chris George might be a great prospect, but he's best left in Omaha as long as Muser's in Kansas City.

Muser's a lousy in-game tactician, too, but that only costs the Royals three or four games per season, which is paltry compared to the other stuff. Still, it's amazing to me that he actually spent two-and-a-half years playing for Earl Weaver (and as bad a player as Muser was -- picture a first baseman with a 625 career OPS -- I'm also amazed that Weaver gave him 526 at-bats in those two-and-a-half years).

Aside from the fact that he's running my favorite team into the ground, I don't have anything personal against Tony Muser. Most of his players seem to love him, and I'm certain that he's well-suited to many occupations. It's just that managing a major-league baseball team probably isn't one of them.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 18
Let's get into the mail, but first let me run a few numbers for those who think that Ted Williams did not benefit, just a little bit, from playing half his games in Fenway Park ...

      TW home   TW away
OBP    .497      .468
Slug   .652      .615
OPS    1150      1082

It's true that Fenway Park cost Ted Williams some home runs. But overall, it helped him, just as it's helped every other Red Sox slugger, left-handed or right-handed, from Jimmie Foxx to Carl Yastrzemski to Jim Rice to Mo Vaughn.

Rob,

I have been following Alfonso Soriano's stats this season, and I've noticed that he has a higher batting average than on-base percentage. I was wondering how this could happen (I obviously am too lazy to look up the exact definition of OBP), and how you think this bodes for his progress this season. I realize he has done pretty well with the bat and has changed the makeup of the Yankees by being a threat on the basepaths, but I imagine his lack of being able to take a walk will eventually take its toll on his batting average.

Keep up the good work, and how about a column on why no one in the Cubs management seems to give Julio Zuleta any respect?

George Plackmann Chicago, IL

Ah, two column-worthy subjects in one letter; my favorite kind.

I get the OBP question every couple of years. Yes, it's possible to have a higher batting average than on-base percentage, because sacrifice flies count as plate appearances when computing OBP, but they don't count as at-bats when computing batting average.

On a practical level, that means that if you have more sacrifice flies than walks+HBP, your OBP will be lower than your batting average. And that's exactly what we see with Soriano, who's got one SF and zero BB.

As for Soriano's future, far be it from this humble columnist to question the prospects of a Yankee who's already been widely anointed as the American League's non-Japanese 2001 Rookie of the Year. Still, I look at Soriano's career totals -- 116 at-bats and one walk (and 30 strikeouts) -- and I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the pitchers will realize that they don't have to throw the ball anywhere near the plate.

As for Julio Zuleta, I have two points that some might see as somewhat contradictory:

1. He's a better hitter than Alfonso Soriano.
2. He's not really good enough to play regularly.

Like Soriano, Zuleta is OBP-challenged. However, Zuleta does have good power, at least against left-handers. It was a sign of the Cubs' aimlessness when they signed Ron Coomer, even though they already had Zuleta in their organization. Zuleta should be platooning with Matt Stairs until Hee Seop Choi is ready (which could be any day now).

Rob,

I read your column from yesterday, and I think you underestimate the A's chances of making the playoffs. I did a few additional calculations and concluded that there is a .463 chance that a 90-win team would go 2-10 in any 12-game stretch throughout a 162-game season.

Using the properties of binomial distributions, the probability that a .556 team going 2-10 in any given 12-game stretch is .004, which is not high.

However, the odds of a 90-win team NOT going 2-10 in any of the 150 segments (there are 150 different 12-game stretches throughout a 162-game schedule) is 0.9959 raised to the 150th power, which equals 0.537. Therefore, there is a .463 chance that a 90-win team would go 2-10 in a 12-game at some point during the season.

I think that the lesson here is that you can't base any strong conclusions (e.g., the A's are out of the race) on any 12-game stretch. And I think the A's have a better shot (closer to 50 percent, rather than 25) than you give them credit for, assuming that winning 90 games is their ticket to the playoffs.

Thanks for your time,
Derek Dickey

I'm not smart enough to check your math, Derek, but I'm smart enough to know that your various calculations are close enough for government work and pop sabermetrics. But you're missing the point. While it's true that plenty of 90-win teams will go through a 2-10 stretch, it's false to assume that the A's are finished with their 2-10 stretches. If there's a .463 chance that a 90-win club will go 2-10 at some point during a 162-game season, what's the chance that a 90-win club will go 2-10 during a 148-game season? Must be somewhere above 40 percent, right?

You seem to be saying that, well, sure, the A's had their rough stretch. And now that that's out of the way, the Athletics can cruise down their merry path to another division title. But it doesn't work that way. The A's are nearly as likely to suffer another losing streak now as they were two weeks ago. The difference being, if they go through another 2-10 stretch, they're probably sunk.

Here's another one, same topic but slightly different criticism ...

Rob --

Normally agree with you, but I not only disagree with your "revised predictions" for 2001 division winners, but I'm also quite surprised by them.

You're basing your revisions on two weeks. You normally claim that small sample sizes are not telling of what will happen over the course of a season. Granted, it's possible the A's slow start this season could lead to a less-than stellar season, but two weeks isn't enough to tell. Last season, the Giants started their season 4-11 and lost their first 6 games at home. But as you know, they went on to win the division with the best record in baseball and tied for best home record.

Also, you said the A's have to play .587 ball the rest of the way to reach 90 wins, and that they have a 25 percent chance of doing so. This is a team that went 22-7 last September, a .759 clip. It's not fair or reasonable to suggest that a 3-10 record is insurmountable, especially with five-and-half months to go. And with the new unbalanced schedule, seven games back in April is nothing to panic about.

I really think your writing off the A's is a bit premature.

Brian Ehrich
Costa Mesa, CA

Of course it's not "insurmountable." I never said, nor did I suggest, that it was.

But are the A's likely to make up a seven-game deficit?

No, they are not.

Look at it like this ... If, before the season, the A's had spotted the M's seven games, which team would have been favored in the West? I would guess that the Mariners would have been slight favorites, or at least co-favorites. But today, the A's don't even have 162 games to make up that seven-game deficit. They have 148 games. And it's not going to be easy.

I know why so many Athletics fans were upset with Monday's column. They're under the distinct impression that, after just weeks, I've written off their favorite team this season. But that's not what I did at all. With 162 games to play, the A's had -- in my mind -- something like a 35 percent chance to win their division, with the Mariners and Rangers both at around 30 percent, and the Angels somewhere around five. And now, it seems to me, the M's and R's have switched places with the A's.

If I were you, I wouldn't be too upset by my "prediction." After all, if I'm wrong, won't it be all that much sweeter when the A's finish their stirring comeback with another division title?

TUESDAY, APRIL 17
Today, or tomorrow, or the next day -- sometime soon -- Barry Bonds will hit a baseball over a distant wall, thus becoming only 17th player in the game's long history to slug 500 home runs in a major-league career.

That's not the story, though. The real story is that Barry Bonds is only 36 years old, and doesn't look anywhere near ready to start slowing down. After 500, what lies beyond for Bonds?

To this point, 16 players have totaled 500 or more home runs, but among those 16 players, only Mark McGwire is still adding to his total (and he's doing it only semi-regularly these days). Harmon Killebrew, for example, hit 573 homers, but the last of them came when he was 39 (a very old 39, as Killebrew was pretty much washed up at 37). Frank Robinson hit 586 homers, but the last of them came when he was 40.

Meanwhile, Bonds is still going strong. Last year he set a career high with 49 homers, despite playing half his games in a ballpark that's apparently tough on left-handed-hitting power hitters. According to Bill James' Career Assessments method, Bonds now has an 89 percent chance of hitting 600 home runs -- something only three men have ever done. He also has a 21 percent chance of hitting 700 home runs, and -- get this -- a six percent chance of breaking Henry Aaron's record.

Of course, a lot of guys have a shot at topping Aaron, with Ken Griffey (36 percent), Sammy Sosa (35 percent) and McGwire (23 percent) leading the way. But given McGwire's injury woes, it's quite possible that if Bonds does manage to reach 756 home runs, he'll be the first.

And a decade ago, who'd have guessed it? The career of Barry Bonds stands as a wonderful object lesson in the unpredictability of athletic performance. After his fourth major-league season, Bonds was 25 years old and his career totals looked like this:

Bonds, 1986-1989
Games  Runs  RBI  HR   Avg   OBP  Slug
566     364  223  84  .256  .347  .458

Good numbers, no doubt (remember, this was the 1980s). But he'd never played in an All-Star Game, never led the National League in any statistical category. Now, compare those first four seasons to the 11-plus since:

           Games   Runs   RBI   HR   Avg   OBP  Slug
1986-1989    566    364   223   84  .256  .347  .458
1990-2001   1588   1227  1191  415  .302  .434  .610

Did anyone know, in 1990, that Barry Bonds would eventually become perhaps the greatest left fielder in the history of the game?

Finally, Neyer writes something controversial ... What's his e-mail address again?

The e-mail address is at the bottom of the column. And yes, I believe that Barry Bonds should eventually be recognized as baseball's greatest left fielder. Assuming, of course, that he's not already there.

Quick and dirty, let's compare some statistics for the three contenders:

       Teddy Ballgame   Stan the Man   Barry Bonds
Runs        1798            1949          1584
RBI         1839            1951          1405
OBP         .482            .417          .411
Slug        .634            .559          .567
OPS         1116             976           978
OPS+         186             157           167

That last row describes the OPS for each player, with an adjustment for league and ballpark. Ted Williams' 186 means that after making those adjustments, his career OPS was 86 percent better than his league. As you can see, Bonds has been better relative to his league than Stan Musial. And while Musial was regarded as a pretty good outfielder and a fine baserunner, it would be pretty hard to defend the notion that he was the match of Bonds in either department. What's more, two of Musial's biggest years, 1943 and '44, came during World War II, when a great majority of the National League's best pitchers were either Musial's teammates, or wearing green uniforms in the service of their country.

Ah, the war. Or rather, the wars. Williams spent nearly five full seasons in the service, three during World War II and nearly two more during the Korean War. Had he not missed those nearly-five seasons, Williams might well be the all-time leader in both runs and RBI. And if he were, would we even consider anyone else as the all-time greatest left fielder? Perhaps not.

Still, Williams did spend his entire career in a great hitter's park. And he was exceedingly fragile for the last seven years of his career. A pretty good all-around player for the first half of his career, Williams didn't give the Red Sox much in the field or on the bases for second half of his career.

Perhaps it's too early to put Barry Bonds in Ted Williams' class. But Bonds has certainly wedged his way into the argument. And in two or three years, it just might be Williams' fans who have to do the heavy lifting.

MONDAY, APRIL 16
Two weeks into the season, the two biggest stories -- Mark Grudzielanek's power surge notwithstanding -- are almost certainly the Minnesota Twins and the Oakland Athletics. In case you haven't seen the standings today, the Twins lead the American League Central with a 9-2 record (the best start in their history), and the A's occupy the basement of the American League West with a 2-10 record.

These are big stories because (1) the Twins were commonly picked to finish last in the Central; and (2) the A's were almost universally picked to finish first in the West. In fact, when the ESPN.com staff predictions came in, the A's were the only unanimous pick to capture a division title.

And they might capture the division yet. But it's not going to be easy.

Let's assume, for a moment, that my before-the-season evaluation of the Athletics was correct, that their fundamental quality was that of a 90-win club. Or in percentage terms, a .556 club.

Assuming they're actually a .556 team, the chance that they'd have only two wins in 12 games is .006, or six-tenths of one percent.

After starting 2-10, the Athletics will, if they're to win 90 games, now have to go 88-62 over their next 150 games. In percentage terms, that means they have to win at a .587 clip the rest of the way. Of course, .587 is "only" 31 points higher than .556, which doesn't seem like a whole heck of a lot. However, the chances of a .556 club -- that is, a club with a fundamental quality of .556 -- going .587 (or better) over a 150-game stretch is only 25 percent. (We compute these figures by utilizing the properties of the binomial distributions. If you want to know what that means, I'm sure it'll be a hot topic on the message board.

That's not to say good teams don't have tough times. Here are the last 10 teams that won exactly 90 games in a 162-game season, along with their worst 12-game stretch:

Year Team       Worst 12
2000 Indians      4- 8
1998 Cubs         2-10   
1997 Giants       4- 8
1997 Mariners     3- 9
1996 Rangers      3- 9
1996 Dodgers      4- 8
1992 Twins        4- 8
1992 Reds         4- 8
1987 Giants       3- 9
1986 Yankees      4- 8

Tough stretches, yes. But only in one case did a team suffer a 2-10 stretch. On the other hand, last August the Mariners went 2-13 over a 15-game stretch, and wound up with 91 regular-season victories and the wild card. And last September the Yankees went 2-13 to close the season ... and all they did was win another World Series.

There's another possibility, though. It's possible that the Athletics' 2-10 mark -- coming at the start of the season, rather than at some relatively random point -- suggests that the A's aren't really a .556 team. I don't know that I buy that, however. The A's have made three big changes since last year. They replaced Kevin Appier in the rotation with Cory Lidle, they replaced Ben Grieve in left field with Johnny Damon, and they replaced Randy Velarde at second base with Jose Ortiz. None of those should be considered significant upgrades, but neither should any of them be considered significant downgrades, either.

I still think the Athletics are a good team. But I also think that they've put themselves into a big hole -- they're already seven games behind the Mariners -- and only have about a one-in-four chance to reach the postseason.

And the Twins? At 9-2, They've been nearly as good as the A's have been bad. Before the season, I had the Twins finishing last in the Central with 70 wins. Here are the best stretches over 11 or more games for the last 11 teams that won 70 games:

Year Team      Best 11+
1999 Angels      9-2
1998 Twins       8-3
1996 Angels     11-2 
1992 Phillies   10-1
1990 Cardinals   8-3
1988 Rangers     9-2
1986 Cubs        7-4
1984 Reds       13-1 
1983 Angels      8-3
1983 Twins       8-3
1983 Indians     9-2

As you can see, it's not at all uncommon for bad teams to put together good 11-game stretches, with six of the last 11 70-92 clubs going 9-2 (or better) over an 11-game (or more) stretch. Let me repeat myself: it's common for bad teams -- teams that wind up winning about 43 percent of their games -- to play brilliantly for a couple of weeks within a given season.

When people asked me about the Twins this spring, my standard answer was, "I think they'll finish last because they won't score any runs ... but I like their rotation, and if everybody pitches well, they could surprise some people."

And when people asked about the A's, I said, "I think they're the best team in the division ... but young pitchers will break your heart, and the A's are depending on three of them."

Minnesota's top four starters -- Radke, Milton, Redman, Mays -- are 8-1 with a 3.00 ERA. Oakland's three young starters -- Hudson, Mulder, Zito -- are 2-3 with a 5.09 ERA. I don't believe those numbers will hold, but I also wouldn't be surprised if Minnesota's rotation finished the season with numbers just as good as Oakland's. It's the run production that will eventually kill the Twins' chances.

As for the A's, their run production should come around. It's fashionable to suggest that the "new" strike zone is giving them problems, but last year they finished second in the American League in walks, and this year they're second in the American League in walks. Last year they finished first (worst) in the American League in strikeouts, and this year they're only ninth in strikeouts. If anything, the A's seem to be adjusting quite well to the new strike zone. Their problem has been a serious power outage. Last year, the A's finished second in the American League in home runs despite playing half their games in a tough park for power hitters. This year, only the power-starved Orioles have hit fewer homers than the Athletics.

Oakland's power will come back, though.

So my new predictions? Second place for the Oakland Athletics in a strong American League West, and third place for the Minnesota Twins in a weak American League Central.

THURSDAY, APRIL 12
As expected, I received a ton of response to my columns about C.C. Sabathia and the sad recent history of 20-year-old starting pitchers. Here's one of the more thoughtful letters that came in ...

Rob,

I don't really understand what you are trying to say in your recent column about 20-year-old pitchers. Are you saying that the 20-year-old psyche can't handle the pressure of the big leagues, or are you saying that 20-year-olds are more likely to break down? I'm confused, because if Sabathia doesn't get 20 starts with the Indians, he's going to get them down on the farm. Sabathia had 27 starts last season between A and Double-A ball. It doesn't make sense that he's more likely to throw his arm out in the majors as opposed to the minors. Either way, he's bringing his fastball at 95-plus. If the Indians were conscious about pitch counts and handling him cautiously, one shouldn't assume that that would be any worse than getting the same work in the minors.

There is the worry about rushing a young pitcher to the majors because the affect it can have on their confidence if they get shelled. The pitchers you refer to, however, did enjoy some measure of success and it is doubtful they lost any confidence after proving they could handle major-league hitters at such an early age.

My conclusion from your article was that these young pitchers burned out early, most with some sort of arm injury attributing to their demise. It appears to me that the sample size is a little small, and their burn-outs could be attributed to others things besides the fact that they started 20 games in the majors at the age of 20. Like I said, if they didn't start those games in the majors, they certainly will start them in the minors. I don't know of one farm club that hands out PlayStations and Nolan Ryan's book as an alternative to mound work.

Thanks for continuing to stir the pot,
Roy Sisemen

My answer to the question, "What were you trying to say?" is "Nothing, really."

Honestly, my primary aim was simply to present the data. If you subject Monday's and Tuesday's columns to a word count, you'll find that the vast majority of the material was about presenting data, and the tiny minority was about drawing any sort of conclusion. A number of readers -- most of them Indians fans -- wrote to excoriate me for suggesting that C.C. Sabathia might enjoy anything less than a stellar career. A few even accused me of being "mean" to Sabathia, whatever that means. I'll get to that later, though.

First, I'd like to address two of the substantive criticisms: that my focus was too narrow, and that my sample size was too small.

Some wondered why I didn't include Greg Maddux (who started six games in his Age 20 season, and then started 27 in his Age 21 season) and Kerry Wood (who would have been included if he'd been born 16 days later than he was). I didn't include those guys because you have to draw the line somewhere. In this particular case, including all the 21-year-old pitchers would have resulted in another four or five hours of data entry, and frankly I didn't think that it was necessary, since C.C. Sabathia isn't 21.

As for the sample size, yes, it was small ... sort of. There were only six pitchers from 1980 through 2000 who started at least 20 games in their Age 20 season, and six isn't many. But in another sense, the sample size was huge, 21 seasons worth of major-league pitchers. The inescapable conclusions were that very few pitchers have been significant contributors at the major-league level when they were 20, and of the few who were, all peaked early, and were pretty much washed up by the time they reached their late 20s.

That said, I wanted to see more 20-year-old pitchers, too. So I found all the pitchers who started at least 20 games in their Age 20 seasons since 1960. You'll find them below, along with the age at which they enjoyed their last quality season. I defined "quality season" as one in which the pitcher gets a Total Pitcher Index (as seen in Total Baseball) of at least 1.5, which means he was at least 1.5 wins better than a league-average pitcher. For those who didn't even reach that figure, I just made a somewhat subjective evaluation of their last season as a quality starter (or if they didn't even reach that level, their best season as a starter).

From 1970 through 1979, seven 20-year-old pitchers made at least 20 starts: Bert Blyleven (38 years old), Frank Tanana (30), Don Gullett (24), Dave Rozema (21), Dennis Eckersley (30), Kevin Kobel (25) and Dennis Blair (21).

Tanana and Eckersley are special cases. When Tanana won 15 games for the Rangers in 1984, his power-pitching days were over. After dominating American League hitters from virtually his first day in the majors, Tanana lost his fastball when he was 26, and spent three years making himself into a finesse pitcher. In 1977, he struck out 205 hitters ... and over the next 16 seasons, never struck out more than 160 again. Eckersley, of course, became a world-class reliever after he lost his starter's wings.

From 1960 through 1969, 11 20-year-old pitchers made at least 20 starts: Ken Holtzman (29), Ray Sadecki (26), Jim Palmer (36), Dave Morehead (25), Wally Bunker (24), Dick Ellsworth (23), Catfish Hunter (29), Bob Moose (24), Gary Nolan (24), Joe Coleman (26) and Dave McNally (30).

Where Blyleven was the big success story of the previous group, Palmer is the guy here. But what people forget is that, after making his 30 starts in 1966 at Age 20, Palmer missed most of 1967, all of 1968 and part of 1969 with a serious arm injury.

So adding those two decades to the last two gives us 40 years worth of 20-year-old starters. Excluding Rick Ankiel -- about whom we certainly can't draw any conclusions -- we've got 23 pitchers who started at least 20 games in their Age 20 seasons. And how many of them were still above-average starters in their 30s? Two. Palmer and Blyleven (and Palmer lost the better part of two seasons to arm troubles). No, I don't know if that means anything, but two doesn't seem like a lot to me. Remember, these pitchers were so promising that their teams thought they could handle major-league hitters when they were 20 years old.

One thing that's apparent from all this data: notwithstanding what you might have heard from your favorite ex-major league pitcher, it seems that organizations are not rushing pitchers to the majors. In the 1960s, 11 20-year-olds made 20 starts in a season. In the 1970s, seven 20-year-olds made 20 starts in a season. In the 1980s, four 20-year-olds made 20 starts in a season. And in the 1990s, only one 20-year-old made 20 starts in a season. When Rick Ankiel did it last year, he was the first since Steve Avery in 1990. And remember, there are a lot more teams now than there were in the 1960s. The percentage of games started by 20-year-old pitchers has gone way, way down.

Perhaps this bodes well for C.C. Sabathia. One potentially large problem with my conclusion -- that he's highly unlikely to be a great pitcher a decade from now -- depends on the questionable assumption that conditions today are the same as they were in, say, 1980 or 1990. And maybe they're not. Maybe the Indians will be a lot more careful than the Braves were with Steve Avery, or the Mets were with Dwight Gooden. Then again, maybe they won't be. After all, it was just three years ago that the Cubs showed little restraint with Kerry Wood.

All right, back to those who felt that I'd somehow been "mean" to C.C. Sabathia ... If you've been reading this column for more than a year or so, you know that I've written about the workloads given to young pitchers many times, and passionately. And I write on this subject not because I enjoy criticizing managers, nor because I enjoy predicting doom for pitchers who can't legally get a beer yet. I write these columns because I hate what the game does to young pitchers. I hate the thought of a young man, still in the process of sowing his oats, reduced to a supine, anesthetized mass of flesh and bones on a metal table, waiting for a surgeon to jam a scalpel into his shoulder or his elbow.

I write these columns because I feel sorry for the young pitchers, but I also write them because I feel sorry for me. I missed getting to see Kerry Wood pitch in 1999, and of course even when he pitched last season, he wasn't the same. A lot of people tell me that there's nothing to be done about Kerry Wood or Ryan Anderson or Alan Benes or Matt Morris or Jose Rosado or Jeff D'Amico or Bill Pulsipher or Steve Avery or Jaret Wright or Gil Meche or David Nied or Scott Williamson. Pitchers just get hurt, they tell me.

Well, I reject that argument. Young pitchers suffering debilitating injuries is just a tiny problem, a speck of dust among our planet's mountain of woes. But that tiny problem also happens to be something on which I might be able, through the use of my bully pulpit, to exert some small positive influence. And so I continue to tilt at this particular windmill, with hopes that inch by inch, progress will be made.

He'll never know it, but Chicken Littles like me just might be among the best friends that C.C. Sabathia ever has.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 11
There are generally two occasions on which old baseball stars are written about: their election to the Hall of Fame, and their death. The first of those is certainly an appropriate time to list the player's accomplishments, the high points of his career. But the second should, at least in my opinion, be the time for an objective look at the man's life.

Unfortunately for posterity, when Willie Stargell died the other day, most writers preferred to nominate Stargell for baseball sainthood rather than tell us the story of his life. The best example of this was probably Alan Robinson's obituary of Stargell, syndicated by the Associated Press. Robinson wrote:

For nearly 30 years, Stargell was the only player to hit a ball out of Dodger Stadium, and he did it twice. If he hadn't played his first 8½ seasons at cavernous Forbes Field, then the majors' most spacious ballpark, he probably would have hit more than 600 homers.

Stargell actually hit 475 home runs. That's 125 shy of 600, and 125 divided by seven-and-a-half (Robinson actually incorrectly added an extra year) is approximately 17. Is it realistic to suggest that Stargell lost 17 homers per season to Forbes Field? As evidence (his only evidence), Robinson presented the following:

Stargell's first wife, Dolores, kept detailed statistics on every ball he hit and estimated he would have had 22 more homers in 1969 if the Pirates had played in Three Rivers Stadium, which opened a year later. Stargell hit 29 homers in 1969.

I hope you'll pardon me if I don't accept Dolores' "detailed statistics" as gospel. First of all, 1969 was just one season, and can't necessarily be projected to those seven-and-a-half seasons. Second, in 1969 Stargell actually hit 14 home runs at home, and 15 on the road. Is it realistic to suggest that he'd have those 15 road homers, and also hit 36 home homers? And third, one might suspect that Dolores was, um, something short of objective when doing her estimating.

Here are the facts of the matter. Stargell debuted with the Pirates on September 16, 1962, but didn't homer in his 31 at-bats that season. At that time, the Pirates played in Forbes Field, and would do so until the All-Star break in 1970, at which point they moved into Three Rivers Stadium. So that's seven-and-a-half seasons for Stargell at Forbes Field.

Thanks to STATS Inc. and Retrosheet's Dave Smith, I've got Stargell's complete home/road home run breakdowns for those seven-and-a-half seasons. Over that span, he hit 74 home runs at Forbes Field, and 107 away from Forbes Field. So did Forbes Field "cost" Stargell 125 home runs? Well, let's magically transform Forbes Field into an "average National League park." Given that Stargell hit 107 homers in the other National League parks -- which determine the aforementioned National League average -- wouldn't we expect Stargell to hit approximately 107 home runs in our transformed Forbes Field, too?

That results in 33 "extra" home runs, for a career total of 508. And that's a far piece short of 600.

Looking at this from another perspective, if Stargell had hit 125 more home runs at Forbes Field than he actually did, here's what his home/road splits would look like for those seven-and-a-half seasons:

Home HR   Road HR
  199       107

And if Stargell had actually posted splits like that, wouldn't we have to conclude that he had spent nearly half his career in the greatest hitter's park since Philadelphia's Baker Bowl of the early 1930s? And if that were the case, wouldn't we have to discount his home run total?

Stargell certainly was hurt by Forbes Field, at least when it came to hitting home runs. But 600? Frankly, that's a ridiculous notion, a figment of someone's imagination.

But wait, there's more from Alan Robinson's imagination:

Stargell enjoyed his best season in 1971, with 48 homers and 125 RBI. However, he was 0-for-14 in the NL playoffs against the Giants and had only one RBI in the Pirates' seven-game World Series victory over favored Baltimore. He left center stage to the 38-year-old Clemente, who, fearful he would never play in another Series, turned the postseason into a personal showcase of his grace, talent and determination. Only 14 months later, Clemente was dead.

More myth-making. If you read between the lines here, you'll get the distinct impression that (1) Stargell went out of his way to avoid taking the spotlight from Clemente; (2) Clemente somehow elevated his game, as if he could simply turn on the after-burners whenever the mood struck; and (3) indeed, Clemente did not get another chance at the World Series before his tragic end.

The biggest problem with this particular myth is that Clemente did play in another postseason (though not a World Series), batting .235 with a homer and two RBI in the 1972 NLCS (the Pirates lost to the Reds).

Another thing: above all, Stargell is remembered as the leader of the 1979 Pirates, the famous "We Are Family" squad that, inspired by "Pops" and his coveted gold stars, won the World Series. Fair enough. But it's worth noting, at least in passing, that Stargell hung around for three more seasons. And his spiritual leadership notwithstanding, the Pirates went 213-213 over those three seasons. In 1983, Stargell's first season away from the team, they went 84-78. In his second, they dropped to last place. And in 1985, with Stargell back as a coach, the Pirates plummeted to a major league-worst 57-104 record, amid a drug scandal involving a number of current and former Bucs.

If we're going to give Stargell a lion's share of the credit for the Pirates winning in 1979, then doesn't he deserve at least a tomcat's share of the credit for the franchise's precipitous descent into drug-soaked losing?

I presume that Robinson felt that, with Stargell just having passed away, it's appropriate to toss off a few half-truths, and ignore some of the less-complimentary truths, in the service of a lovely send-off. But I would argue that we actually do Stargell a disservice by exaggerating his abilities, because the underlying message is that his actual abilities don't quite merit the attention that his death received. That somehow 475 home runs weren't enough: fer chrissakes, Jose Canseco nearly hit 475 home runs (and might still yet).

I'd rather remember Willie Stargell for what he was: a fine player, greatly respected by the great majority of his teammates, a seven-time All-Star who ranked as not only one of baseball's strongest hitters, but also as one of the National League's best hitters from 1965 through 1974, and who capped his career in 1979 with a brilliant stretch of hitting in September and October as his team won the World Series.

And the myths? They're best left to novelists.

TUESDAY, APRIL 10
Yesterday, as you might remember, we found that since 1980, only six major-league pitchers started 20 games in their Age 20 seasons. Those six pitchers, again: Fernando Valenzuela (1981), Mike Witt (1981), Dwight Gooden (1985), Ed Correa (1986), Steve Avery (1990) and Rick Ankiel (2000).

As a group, these six pitchers performed quite well, individually they also did well, with the exception of Avery. But what happened after those promising beginnings?

In 1981, Fernando Valenzuela topped Tim Raines in National League Rookie of the Year balloting, edged Tom Seaver to capture Cy Young honors, and capped his amazing season with three postseason victories. Valenzuela came back with a solid 1982 campaign (19-13, 2.87), and in 1986 he won 21 games. Valenzuela was just 25, but would never be a star again.

Ages       19-25    After
Innings     1555     1286
W-L        99-68    72-73
ERA         2.94     4.18

In 1987, still only 26, Valenzuela was a league-average pitcher. And things went downhill from there.

Mike Witt pitched quite well in 1981, going just 8-9 but posting a fine 3.28 ERA in 22 games (21 starts). He joined the Angels' rotation early in the season, and presumably would have made 30-plus starts if not for the strike. Witt ranked as one of the better pitchers in the American League ... until 1988. He was 27 that season, and from that point until the end of his career in 1993, Witt won just 30 games.

Ages       20-26    After
Innings     1475     633
W-L        87-73    30-43
ERA         3.60     4.38

Quality major-league starter at 20, washed up at 30 (Witt missed all of 1990 and most of 1991 due to injury, and started nine games in 1993 to close his career).

Compared to Edwin Correa, however, Mike Witt spent forever in the big leagues.

Ed Correa actually debuted for the White Sox in September of 1985, when he was only 19. The following winter, the Sox traded Correa to Texas, and he opened the '86 season in the Rangers' rotation. Correa went 12-14 but posted a solid 4.23 ERA, and looked like a future star. He threw an above-average fastball which set up an outstanding change-up, both pitches thrown with a deceptive, herky-jerky motion.

Correa would win exactly three major-league games the rest of his career. All of those came in 1987, when he went 3-5 with a 7.59 ERA before hitting the DL with a shoulder "problem." He was 21, and he never pitched in the big leagues again.

Dwight Gooden just retired, at 36. He won 194 games and lost 112, for a .634 winning percentage that ranks 27th on the all-time list, and is better than many, many Hall of Fame pitchers.

Ages       19-28    After
Innings     2128      672
W-L       154-81    40-31
ERA         3.04     4.99

Yes, Gooden's career was sidetracked by drug problems. He missed the first two months of the '87 season after failing a drug test. But he also missed half of the '89 season with a torn muscle in his shoulder, and was never really the same afterward. He was 24 years old. In fact, if we run the above chart, but start the "After" column in 1990 rather than 1994, we see just how early Gooden's slide began.

Ages       19-24    After
Innings     1291     1510
W-L       100-39    94-73
ERA         2.64     4.24

When Gooden was 25 years old -- when some major leaguers are just getting started -- he'd already hit the pinnacle of his career.

A decade ago, Steve Avery was supposed to be the Next Big Thing. Everybody, and I mean everybody, had Avery pegged for the Hall of Fame, and if there were someplace better than the Hall of Fame -- an Inner Circle of Diamond Greatness -- why, he would have been pegged for that, too. In his first season, his Age 20 season, Avery got his head handed to him. But that's no big deal, happens to a lot of rookie pitchers. Happened to Greg Maddux (6-14, 5.61), happened to John Smoltz (2-7, 5.48), happened to Tom Glavine (2-4, 5.54). But those guys weren't 20, they were 21. Maybe one year doesn't make a big difference ... but then again, maybe it does.

What we do know is that Steve Avery won't be in the Inner Circle of Diamond Greatness, he won't be elected to the Hall of Fame, and he certainly wasn't a Big Thing, at least not for long. Avery broke through when he was 21 -- that is, he developed earlier than Maddux or Smoltz or Glavine did -- but he certainly didn't enjoy the career lengths of his former rotation mates.

Ages       20-24    After
Innings      918      633
W-L        58-39    30-43
ERA         3.58     4.38

Like Mike Witt, Avery was washed up at 30. Actually, that's too kind. Witt was washed up when he was 27, and Avery was washed up when he was 25.

Twenty-five.

And Rick Ankiel? Well, we don't really know yet, do we? His rookie season was quite nearly an unqualified success. Ankiel won 11 games for a division-winning club, posted a 3.50 ERA (ninth-best in the National League), and finished second to Rafael Furcal in Rookie of the Year voting. But Ankiel wasn't exactly polished, either. He averaged fewer than six innings per start, and then in October he lost his control. At this writing, a Cy Young Award does not appear to be a part of Ankiel's near future.

Just looking at Valenzuela, Witt, Gooden, Correa, and Avery, the picture isn't pretty. Not pretty at all. Valenzuela, Witt, Cone, Correa and Avery -- all five of them -- seriously declined before they even reached their late 20s.

And perhaps it's worth noting that the seven pitchers who started between 11 and 19 games in their Age 20 seasons also suffered what seem to be more than their fair share of arm injuries. This group consists of Bret Saberhagen (1984), Mark Grant (1984), Joel Davis (1985), Alex Fernandez (1990), Jeff D'Amico (1996), Gil Meche (1999) and Jon Garland (2000). Of this group: