Just minutes ago, the Phils put the finishing touches on a 6-4 victory over the Braves (and by "finishing touches" I mean Brett Myers allowed a home run in the top of the ninth). Coupled with the Mets' loss, the current NL East standings look something like this:
New York Mets: 87-72
Philadelphia Phillies: 87-72
In true Philadelphia fashion, the level of the opposition has finally come down to meet the consistent slightly-past-mediocre performance of the hometown team. The Phillies haven't been in first place or in a tie for first place this late in the season since 1993. (As an aside, how much have we suffered when the answer to nearly every recent-playoffs-related Phillies trivia question is "1993"?) Hell, they haven't even been in first place in September since 2001. Keep it up, guys. We might not need the wild card after all.
I knew the Cardinals were good for something.
- Should this stalemate persist, there are about a million Rashomon-like tie-braking scenarios. The most important thing about this is that the Rockies will have the home field advantage in nearly every scenario since they've recently channeled the spirit of the 2002 A's during a convenient stretch of games against their division rivals.
How much do you think Ryan Howard and Co. would love to see that, should it come to a one-game playoff? This team is built for Coors Field--they slug the ball and playing on the road doesn't seem any different than playing at home to them. I refuse to believe that everything is actually lining up this way. I just can't believe it.
- Speaking of Howard, he's now the proud owner of the single-season strikeout record, now set at 197 punchouts. I like how it combines the excitement of Cal Ripken's consecutive game streak (where he could break his own record every day) and the white-elephantness of Reggie Sanders.
I actually like the direction this record is taking. Long gone are the days when Jose Hernandez challenged Bobby Bonds's place in baseball history. It's more like a bad-but-good record now, like how Cy Young's record number of losses attested more to his longevity than to any failings of his talent. Today's prolific whiffers actually contribute a lot of value--Howard eclipsed Adam Dunn's mark of 195. Those are two guys that just about any GM would have.
- The Chase Utley Plunk-O-Meter is now up to 24; the Phillies have collected an NL-high 85 HBP. I was told that Comcast SportsNet ran a "Chase Utley hit-by-pitch montage" during a recent Phils game. The man is earning every cent of his paycheck.
- What's most amazing to me about this particular late-season surge is that it's occurring during a very awkward time for the franchise. Aaron Rowand has one foot out the door. Uncle Charlie hasn't received an extension and isn't likely to get one unless the Phillies make noise in the playoffs. And Pat Gillick announced he'll play out the string until 2008 and then ride off into the sunset (presumably near Toronto, Seattle, or Chicago). Perhaps it's this atmosphere of impending transition that is finally providing that sense of urgency lacking from the past six seasons.
Stick around--things are about to get interesting.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
The Durbin Hypothesis
About a month ago, I really went out on a limb to profess my completely hetero-normal adoration of J.D. Durbin, everybody's nobody's favorite Phillies mop-up artist. I'm revisiting the subject because now I have conclusive evidence of a rather strange phenomenon taking effect as the Phils gallop to the end of another hard-fought pennant race.
During the past week and a half, the Phillies have won 9 of their last 11 games, swept the Mets, and inched ever so closer to clinching their first playoff appearance since Will Smith was still known as the Fresh Prince. The September stretch run has included a lot of unlikely heroes (Rod Barajas!) and grind-it-out gumption in several games that the Phils had no business winning.
But the most unlikely September hero just might be Mr. Durbin. At any given time, it seems like his presence tips the scales of luck squarely in the Phillies' favor. When the team sees him running in from the bullpen or out of the dugout, they have generally responded with a completely disproportionate effort that one would expect for a teammate who dubbed himself "the Real Deal" on his way to posting an ERA over 6.00.
And when the mysteries of the natural world have confounded mediocre minds, erudite men have always turned to science to arbitrate the boundaries of myth and fact:
The Hypothesis
If J.D. Durbin pitches in a meaningful game (against a main division or wild card rival or any game in the month of September), then the Phillies have an increased chance of achieving an improbable victory.
The Data
In September of 2007 alone, the Durbin Hypothesis has already confronted numerous test cases that indicate its veracity.
After a horrific start against Florida to begin the month, his next game against the Teal Bastards wasn't bad--an second inning marred by fielding errors was followed by a Phillies offensive surge in the third, an early indication of future September wonders. However, it was not enough to win this particular game; science cannot yet explain how Miguel Olivo hit two home runs in one game (from Abraham Nunez's concussor, no less; big Phillie Killer potential here).
Then in his last start to date--Sept. 13 against the Rockies--the wheels flew off in the first inning, with Durbin allowing 3 runs. Yet the Phillies responded with 4 runs of their own and didn't look back in a 12-4 romp over the hottest team in baseball at the moment. It was during this game that the Durbin Hypothesis began to coalesce in my mind, much like how Dr. Emmett Brown's tumble off his toilet allowed him to unlock the secrets of the Flux Capacitor.
And after moving back to the bullpen, Durbin's effectiveness as a holistic motivator has grown exponentially. He spelled Cole Hamels in an eventual 14-inning victory over the St. Louis Cardinals on the 18th (thanks to the aforementioned heroism of Barajas) and mopped up after Kyle Lohse in a 5-run late-game comeback against the Nationals this past Thursday. These are the facts, and they speak for themselves.
The Conclusion
J.D. Durbin is a terrible starting pitcher, a streaky reliever, and one hell of a good luck charm. If science has proven anything, it is that Durbin's presence as a boogeyman/magical baseball shaman could be the best shot the Phillies have at ending their playoff drought. If I were Charlie, I'd have one of my postseason roster spots already figured out.
During the past week and a half, the Phillies have won 9 of their last 11 games, swept the Mets, and inched ever so closer to clinching their first playoff appearance since Will Smith was still known as the Fresh Prince. The September stretch run has included a lot of unlikely heroes (Rod Barajas!) and grind-it-out gumption in several games that the Phils had no business winning.
But the most unlikely September hero just might be Mr. Durbin. At any given time, it seems like his presence tips the scales of luck squarely in the Phillies' favor. When the team sees him running in from the bullpen or out of the dugout, they have generally responded with a completely disproportionate effort that one would expect for a teammate who dubbed himself "the Real Deal" on his way to posting an ERA over 6.00.
And when the mysteries of the natural world have confounded mediocre minds, erudite men have always turned to science to arbitrate the boundaries of myth and fact:
The Hypothesis
If J.D. Durbin pitches in a meaningful game (against a main division or wild card rival or any game in the month of September), then the Phillies have an increased chance of achieving an improbable victory.
The Data
In September of 2007 alone, the Durbin Hypothesis has already confronted numerous test cases that indicate its veracity.
After a horrific start against Florida to begin the month, his next game against the Teal Bastards wasn't bad--an second inning marred by fielding errors was followed by a Phillies offensive surge in the third, an early indication of future September wonders. However, it was not enough to win this particular game; science cannot yet explain how Miguel Olivo hit two home runs in one game (from Abraham Nunez's concussor, no less; big Phillie Killer potential here).
Then in his last start to date--Sept. 13 against the Rockies--the wheels flew off in the first inning, with Durbin allowing 3 runs. Yet the Phillies responded with 4 runs of their own and didn't look back in a 12-4 romp over the hottest team in baseball at the moment. It was during this game that the Durbin Hypothesis began to coalesce in my mind, much like how Dr. Emmett Brown's tumble off his toilet allowed him to unlock the secrets of the Flux Capacitor.
And after moving back to the bullpen, Durbin's effectiveness as a holistic motivator has grown exponentially. He spelled Cole Hamels in an eventual 14-inning victory over the St. Louis Cardinals on the 18th (thanks to the aforementioned heroism of Barajas) and mopped up after Kyle Lohse in a 5-run late-game comeback against the Nationals this past Thursday. These are the facts, and they speak for themselves.
The Conclusion
J.D. Durbin is a terrible starting pitcher, a streaky reliever, and one hell of a good luck charm. If science has proven anything, it is that Durbin's presence as a boogeyman/magical baseball shaman could be the best shot the Phillies have at ending their playoff drought. If I were Charlie, I'd have one of my postseason roster spots already figured out.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Unbalanced Schedule My Ass
Remember how the unbalanced schedule was supposed to make the pennant races more exciting? An abundance of games, it was posited, against division rivals in the first and final months of the season would make the races more competitive (never mind the hometown fans who might want to see some of the other out-of-towners more than once a year).The problems with this approach are manifold. What do you do with a division like the NL Central, where half the teams can barely tie their cleats, let alone defeat a decent baseball team? How do you deal with the mathematical hiccups that result from divisions that don't have the same number of teams as the others? And I don't even want to talk about the havoc that interleague play wreaks here.
MLB has really backed themselves into a corner here. If it wasn't for the invention of the Wild Card--which is what really makes most September games matter--I'm sure more people would be clamoring about this. As it stands, I'm going to make the non-researched claim that the unbalanced schedule has had a negligible effect on division races since its implementation. There are a few prominent exceptions (see: the 2006 AL Central), but they are just that--exceptions (plus, the Tigers made it to the Series with the Wild Card anyway).
Take a gander at the last two weeks of the schedule for the Phillies and their top three Wild Card rivals (excluding yesterday):
Philadelphia: 2 @ STL, 4 @ WSH, 3 vs. ATL, 3 vs. WSH
Los Angeles: 3 @ COL, 3 @ ARI, 3 vs. COL, 3 vs. SF
Colorado: 3 vs. LA, 3 @ SD, 3 @ LA, 3 vs. ARI
San Diego: 3 vs. PIT, 3 vs. COL, 3 @ SF, 4 @ MIL
One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong...
Admittedly, the Rockies have the toughest road ahead (but who outside of Denver believes in them anyway?), followed by the Dodgers. That's good news for the Phils, who also have a relatively easy schedule left--along with a history of playing down to their opponents. St. Louis is an enigma, and Atlanta is still in our heads after all these years. And those Nationals games, especially the ones on the road, are not gimmes (like, say, a game against the Giants). The Gnats have a fair chance at spoiling the Phils' season and if they do, their fans might have real evidence of the supposed D.C.-Philly "rivalry."
But getting to the point of all my bitching about schedules--none of this might not even matter. The Padres have seven games left against non-division opponents: one against a hopeless bottom-feeder and the other against a fading team whose weaknesses were apparent even back in June. They get to play their toughest series in that cow pasture they call "home field." And at a time when the races are supposed to get much more localized, the Pads don't even play the Dodgers!
This fact alone might be the worst news for the Phillies faithful, who have the right to be pissed when the concept of the unbalanced schedule isn't being adhered to properly. The luck of having your three main rivals all the same division isn't worth anything if you can't get them to beat up on each other. Having the NL East title still in reach is some consolation, but the schedule has ensured that the Phils are going to have to play near-flawless ball to make up even those slim 1.5 and/or 2.5 game margins.
Unbalanced schedule my ass.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Do You Recall...Tomas Perez?
For all the guff Pat Gillick has taken about his misfires on the 2007 Phillies starting rotation, he deserves credit for plucking the once-anonymous Greg Dobbs away from the Mariners at the beginning of the season. The Gregulator has been an able platoon man at third base and in the outfield, but he has shined this season as a pinch hitter and especially in "clutch" situations, where his numbers are far superior to his season totals (in an admittedly smaller sample size). With a pinch-hit grand slam that put the Mets away for good this afternoon, Dobbs and Jayson Werth (when Victorino is healthy) are creating the kind of lefty punch from the bench reminiscent of the days of Del Unser.
These bench weapons are a key element in the Phils' never-let-up offense, waiver-wire godsends for an historically weak area of the franchise. But do you recall a bench hero of the recent past? Do you recall...Tomas Perez?
In the year 2000, the faces of the Fightins were the often-dour pusses of Scott Rolen and Bobby Abreu, who were managed by an near-comatose Terry Francona. Imagine the system shock when Tomas Perez, the one-man Animal House, came walking into the clubhouse. Not surprisingly, it was presence (more so than his play) that would greatly influence the character of the club:
Tomas Perez Phillies Statistics: .249 AVG, .301 OBP, 20 HR, 128 RBI
After an April cup of coffee, Perez stuck with the Phillies for good in August 2000 as a utility infielder in the waning days of the Desi Relaford-Mickey Morandini dynasty. He was used primarily as a second baseman until the arrivals of Placido Polanco and Chase Utley, when his role changed to that of the main pinch-hitter off the bench.
The only flaw in this plan was that Tomas, a "glove man" defensive replacement (which is kind of a stretch in and of itself), wasn't quite up to the task. In 122 pinch-hit plate appearances between 2003-2005, he collected a total of 17 hits and 9 walks.
However, his bat was never truly a part of the Tomas Perez legend. In fact, his play on the field has little to do with his semi-notoriety. He is far more well-known in Phillies circles for his free-spirited approach to the game and his pranksterism. As far as the Phillies are concerned, Perez is the inventor of the post-game shaving cream facial and the progenitor of the "lovable loon" persona that Shane Victorino currently exhibits. (Notice, however, that Perez originally preferred the full-blown shaving cream pie, which requires a far greater craftsmanship than Victorino's hastily-constructed "Barbasol on a towel" mechanism.)
At some time during his Phillies tenure, Perez also acquired the half-disparaging nickname, "The Secret Weapon." This fad hit its peak in 2004, when he led the Phillies to two nonconsecutive walk-off wins (one of them a pinch-hit home run) which were both achieved off of Antonio Alfonseca in one of life's great (and yet somehow so fitting and cruel) ironies.
I always feel like Tomas tolerated this good-natured dig at his athletic abilities because he so often had the last laugh. Where else could he get to play a game he loved in front of people who loved him back, all the while making fun of stiffs like Travis Lee in Phillies promo commercials? His personality kind of subverts the whole point of these "DYR..." articles--nobody's going to groan when they remember his name.
More importantly, Perez's personality subverted much of the post-1994 strike culture of the Philadelphia franchise. He was something of a throwback to the days of Dykstra, Daulton, and the Krukker, and it seems a little more than coincidence to me that his arrival corresponded with a revival of the team's fortunes thanks to several "Phillies with flair." Tomas helped us appreciate a cut-up like Doug Glanville and readied us for the shock of a Ryan Howard--a star Phillie who actually looked like he enjoyed playing the game and appreciated the attention he received for it. Hell, even Chase Utley is doing goofy Tastykake advertisements now.
I like to think that it was the influence of Tomas and his exuberant ribbing of the tired, lame, and unstylish, in some small way, that allowed Jimmy Rollins to stick it to the Mets this spring in his infamous "team to beat" remark. Lo and behold, the Phillies have swept the Mets again, thanks in no small part to the undeniably cool J-Roll. Somewhere, Tomas Perez is grinning a mile wide.
For giving Phillies fans a reason to smile again, I fondly recall Tomas "The Secret Weapon" Perez.
Tomas Perez Statistics [Baseball Reference]
These bench weapons are a key element in the Phils' never-let-up offense, waiver-wire godsends for an historically weak area of the franchise. But do you recall a bench hero of the recent past? Do you recall...Tomas Perez?
In the year 2000, the faces of the Fightins were the often-dour pusses of Scott Rolen and Bobby Abreu, who were managed by an near-comatose Terry Francona. Imagine the system shock when Tomas Perez, the one-man Animal House, came walking into the clubhouse. Not surprisingly, it was presence (more so than his play) that would greatly influence the character of the club:
Tomas Perez Phillies Statistics: .249 AVG, .301 OBP, 20 HR, 128 RBI
After an April cup of coffee, Perez stuck with the Phillies for good in August 2000 as a utility infielder in the waning days of the Desi Relaford-Mickey Morandini dynasty. He was used primarily as a second baseman until the arrivals of Placido Polanco and Chase Utley, when his role changed to that of the main pinch-hitter off the bench.
The only flaw in this plan was that Tomas, a "glove man" defensive replacement (which is kind of a stretch in and of itself), wasn't quite up to the task. In 122 pinch-hit plate appearances between 2003-2005, he collected a total of 17 hits and 9 walks.
However, his bat was never truly a part of the Tomas Perez legend. In fact, his play on the field has little to do with his semi-notoriety. He is far more well-known in Phillies circles for his free-spirited approach to the game and his pranksterism. As far as the Phillies are concerned, Perez is the inventor of the post-game shaving cream facial and the progenitor of the "lovable loon" persona that Shane Victorino currently exhibits. (Notice, however, that Perez originally preferred the full-blown shaving cream pie, which requires a far greater craftsmanship than Victorino's hastily-constructed "Barbasol on a towel" mechanism.)
At some time during his Phillies tenure, Perez also acquired the half-disparaging nickname, "The Secret Weapon." This fad hit its peak in 2004, when he led the Phillies to two nonconsecutive walk-off wins (one of them a pinch-hit home run) which were both achieved off of Antonio Alfonseca in one of life's great (and yet somehow so fitting and cruel) ironies.
I always feel like Tomas tolerated this good-natured dig at his athletic abilities because he so often had the last laugh. Where else could he get to play a game he loved in front of people who loved him back, all the while making fun of stiffs like Travis Lee in Phillies promo commercials? His personality kind of subverts the whole point of these "DYR..." articles--nobody's going to groan when they remember his name.
More importantly, Perez's personality subverted much of the post-1994 strike culture of the Philadelphia franchise. He was something of a throwback to the days of Dykstra, Daulton, and the Krukker, and it seems a little more than coincidence to me that his arrival corresponded with a revival of the team's fortunes thanks to several "Phillies with flair." Tomas helped us appreciate a cut-up like Doug Glanville and readied us for the shock of a Ryan Howard--a star Phillie who actually looked like he enjoyed playing the game and appreciated the attention he received for it. Hell, even Chase Utley is doing goofy Tastykake advertisements now.
I like to think that it was the influence of Tomas and his exuberant ribbing of the tired, lame, and unstylish, in some small way, that allowed Jimmy Rollins to stick it to the Mets this spring in his infamous "team to beat" remark. Lo and behold, the Phillies have swept the Mets again, thanks in no small part to the undeniably cool J-Roll. Somewhere, Tomas Perez is grinning a mile wide.
For giving Phillies fans a reason to smile again, I fondly recall Tomas "The Secret Weapon" Perez.
Tomas Perez Statistics [Baseball Reference]
Monday, September 10, 2007
Chipper Jones Thinks Your Pitch Is Outside
I feel like I am an open-minded individual. I can accept that the baseball world is in a constant state of flux: circumstances change, attitudes are reformed, technology evolves. It comes as little surprise, then, that a sportswriter would fire this bottle rocket into the window of tradition:
TIME TO FIX BASEBALL'S MOST BASIC ELEMENT
Next week: can we really trust that the Sun is at the center of the solar system?
Anyway, Chipper Jones recently got all hot and bothered over balls and strikes in a game against the Phillies, throwing his support behind the notorious QuesTec laser targeting system. Dayn Perry is there to take this idea all the way down the rabbit hole.
However, on a larger level Jones is spot on: the quality of home-plate umpiring these days is simply not acceptable. As such, it's time for sweeping changes. Specifically, it's time — past time, actually — to automate the calling of balls and strikes.
Hasn't somebody already automated Chipper? I find it ironic that one of the few things that gets Larry the Affable Automaton into a lather is a robotic GPS system.
Here's the thing: the game of baseball, on a fundamental level, is about the strike zone. All of it — the home runs, the strikeouts, the bunt singles, the walks, the groundball double plays — flows from each hitter's and each pitcher's ability to command the strike zone.
Agreed.
When that zone is called inconsistently, it corrupts the competitive integrity of the game.
Yep.
That's what's happening now, and that's what's been happening for a long time in baseball.
Funny you should mention that...
To put a finer point on it, watch any major-league game and ask yourself whether, say, 25 percent of the ball-strike calls look incorrect after replay or imaging. Over the course of an entire game, it adds up, and that level of inaccuracy makes a mockery of the game.
A lot of things make "a mockery of the game." Phantom tags make a mockery of the game. Greaseballs make a mockery of the game. This sure as hell makes a mockery of the game.
But in regards to cheating, fudging, and bending the rules, well, this kind of stuff has been going on for a long time, and nobody really seems to have a problem with it. Perry is simply doing his best Captain Renault and he is shocked--shocked--to find that people are gambling in the back rooms at Rick's Place.
No doubt, those resistant to such measures will meow about the loss of the nebulous "human element."
Now, I have no feline predilections, but when you aremaking up "citing" specific statistics like "25 percent of the ball-strike calls look incorrect after replay or imaging," then that human element isn't very "nebulous" by your own definition.
Besides, there's no reason that, in an aesthetic sense, the game need change at all. You'd still have your home-plate umpire suited up and in his usual position. He'd have the computer calls relayed to him by a wireless indicator, and then he'd relay those calls with his typical flair.
Thank the Lord that even though we'll be eliminating the bulk of the umpire's craft, we will preserve the "flair" of the grandstanding officials who so rightly believe that they, not the famous athletes, are the main attraction.
The foundation of sports is fairness
No, no, no, no, no.
The foundation of sport is camaraderie, teamwork, and equanimity. The foundation of professional sport is greed, exclusion, and specialization--especially in baseball, where part of the impetus for forming the first professional leagues was to concoct a profitable business model for team owners and to gradually remove all brown people from the first-tier clubs.
and without a ruthlessly consistent strike zone baseball simply isn't fair.
Things that are also not fair: rainy Saturdays, the U.S. tax code, the continued prominence of Nickelback on mainstream radio, life.
With all the talk about steroids and competitive imbalance and the like, something as mundane and taken-for-granted as the strike zone isn't likely to inspire much in the way of activism.
Maybe because steroids and that old bugbear "competitive imbalance" (whatever that means) are actual problems.
It's time for baseball to repair itself at the most basic level: take ball-strike calls out of the hands of umpires.
And while we're at it, let's take game-calling out of the hands of catchers, plate discipline out of the hands of hitters, and command of the strike zone out of the hands of pitchers. Hell, we could even do away with pitchers entirely, substituting the finest pitching machine technology (which, coincidentally, would still be superior to Jose Mesa). That might finally make Chipper happy.
Or we could recognize that the purpose of these computer targeting systems is to merely evaluate--not replace--the consistency of an umpire's strike zone. It is a tool, not the means to some pie-in-the-sky end where arguing with any umpire is a thing of the past and everyone passes up the most convenient of opportunities to gain a competitive edge.
Like I said, I'm an open-minded person.
TIME TO FIX BASEBALL'S MOST BASIC ELEMENT
Next week: can we really trust that the Sun is at the center of the solar system?
Anyway, Chipper Jones recently got all hot and bothered over balls and strikes in a game against the Phillies, throwing his support behind the notorious QuesTec laser targeting system. Dayn Perry is there to take this idea all the way down the rabbit hole.
However, on a larger level Jones is spot on: the quality of home-plate umpiring these days is simply not acceptable. As such, it's time for sweeping changes. Specifically, it's time — past time, actually — to automate the calling of balls and strikes.
Hasn't somebody already automated Chipper? I find it ironic that one of the few things that gets Larry the Affable Automaton into a lather is a robotic GPS system.
Here's the thing: the game of baseball, on a fundamental level, is about the strike zone. All of it — the home runs, the strikeouts, the bunt singles, the walks, the groundball double plays — flows from each hitter's and each pitcher's ability to command the strike zone.
Agreed.
When that zone is called inconsistently, it corrupts the competitive integrity of the game.
Yep.
That's what's happening now, and that's what's been happening for a long time in baseball.
Funny you should mention that...
To put a finer point on it, watch any major-league game and ask yourself whether, say, 25 percent of the ball-strike calls look incorrect after replay or imaging. Over the course of an entire game, it adds up, and that level of inaccuracy makes a mockery of the game.
A lot of things make "a mockery of the game." Phantom tags make a mockery of the game. Greaseballs make a mockery of the game. This sure as hell makes a mockery of the game.
But in regards to cheating, fudging, and bending the rules, well, this kind of stuff has been going on for a long time, and nobody really seems to have a problem with it. Perry is simply doing his best Captain Renault and he is shocked--shocked--to find that people are gambling in the back rooms at Rick's Place.
No doubt, those resistant to such measures will meow about the loss of the nebulous "human element."
Now, I have no feline predilections, but when you are
Besides, there's no reason that, in an aesthetic sense, the game need change at all. You'd still have your home-plate umpire suited up and in his usual position. He'd have the computer calls relayed to him by a wireless indicator, and then he'd relay those calls with his typical flair.
Thank the Lord that even though we'll be eliminating the bulk of the umpire's craft, we will preserve the "flair" of the grandstanding officials who so rightly believe that they, not the famous athletes, are the main attraction.
The foundation of sports is fairness
No, no, no, no, no.
The foundation of sport is camaraderie, teamwork, and equanimity. The foundation of professional sport is greed, exclusion, and specialization--especially in baseball, where part of the impetus for forming the first professional leagues was to concoct a profitable business model for team owners and to gradually remove all brown people from the first-tier clubs.
and without a ruthlessly consistent strike zone baseball simply isn't fair.
Things that are also not fair: rainy Saturdays, the U.S. tax code, the continued prominence of Nickelback on mainstream radio, life.
With all the talk about steroids and competitive imbalance and the like, something as mundane and taken-for-granted as the strike zone isn't likely to inspire much in the way of activism.
Maybe because steroids and that old bugbear "competitive imbalance" (whatever that means) are actual problems.
It's time for baseball to repair itself at the most basic level: take ball-strike calls out of the hands of umpires.
And while we're at it, let's take game-calling out of the hands of catchers, plate discipline out of the hands of hitters, and command of the strike zone out of the hands of pitchers. Hell, we could even do away with pitchers entirely, substituting the finest pitching machine technology (which, coincidentally, would still be superior to Jose Mesa). That might finally make Chipper happy.
Or we could recognize that the purpose of these computer targeting systems is to merely evaluate--not replace--the consistency of an umpire's strike zone. It is a tool, not the means to some pie-in-the-sky end where arguing with any umpire is a thing of the past and everyone passes up the most convenient of opportunities to gain a competitive edge.
Like I said, I'm an open-minded person.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Wish You Were There
As I watched the Eagles' season opener slip away in the Crisco hands of J.R. Reid and Greg Lewis, Fox's B team of commentators wistfully reminded the audience that championships are not "won" (and very rarely "lost") during the first game. And though it seems like things shake out pretty quickly in the NFL, year after year there are usually multiple playoff spots up for grabs right until the last weekend of the season. Thus, a unique mix of a short schedule and a relatively small percentage of competitive difference between even the best and worst teams means more teams--and most importantly, more fans--are invested in the season until the very end.
I restate the obvious only because there is a major disparity between the psyche of the Eagles fan throwing himself under a bus for a few flukey special teams plays (the Packers were doing absolutely nothing on offense) and the Phillies fan patiently and loyally awaiting another playoff run thwarted by a bad bullpen, mental mistakes, swarms of locusts, whatever.
Truly, breaching the subject of the Phils' lack of achievement despite stretches of more-than-mediocre seasons elicits an eclectic mix of optimism and ambivalence. Why, then, is the mere idea of contendership exciting to the Phaithful? These are sports fans who coincidentally have a lot of contempt for professional sports (one championship in over 120 years kind of gives them the right).
Once again I turn to the prodigious wisdom of my father, who, when pressed for an explanation for the Phillies' lack of accomplishment in eras where they were relatively accomplished for a Major League Baseball team (i.e. the mid-70s until the mid-80s) could only offer the following nugget:
"Aaaah, they were right there in '81."
Indeed, Philadelphia made it into a four-team National League playoff during the 1981 split-season. It created in situation in which you could legitimately claim the Phils' success really was achieved in only half a season, their postseason spot guaranteed by virtue of the best "first half" record in the NL East. Naturally, they sleepwalked through the second half and wound up falling to the Montreal Expos in a best-of-five division series.
These Phillies have done their best to emulate what now seems like an annual tradition--the skittish, wildly fluctuating month-to-month inconsistency of the clubs of the late Carlton/Schmidt Era. A .500 team on July 8, they are eight games over the break-even point since the All-Star Game, a swing that brings to mind the torrid/tepid dichotomy of 1981, the inception of the wild card replacing a midseason strike as an excuse for the occasional incompetence of a so-called serious pennant contender. Except that now this happens almost every year. Thanks, Commissioner Selig.
They are doing exactly what it takes to remain in the pennant race without looking like they really have what it takes to make it. They exist in the deeper end of the talent pool but still often find themselves an arm or two short (paging John Ennis), looking sharp but ultimately treading Perrier. They are the hype and hoopla of Snakes on a Plane culminating in something that's neither solidly scary nor funny. They are the "Also Receiving Votes" in the AP Poll, Miss Congeniality at the beauty pageant, and the recipients of the "Participant" ribbon at the Pinewood Derby--they are the quintessence of the also-ran.
They are the dreaded moment when I may someday have to explain to my own children that, even with a league MVP, a potential MVP, a potential Cy Young, and one of the best offenses of the decade in a hitter's park, the 2007 Phillies were "right there."
And with apologies to Harry Kalas, if that's where the Phils plan on staying while waiting for the dam to burst, I'd rather be outta here.
I restate the obvious only because there is a major disparity between the psyche of the Eagles fan throwing himself under a bus for a few flukey special teams plays (the Packers were doing absolutely nothing on offense) and the Phillies fan patiently and loyally awaiting another playoff run thwarted by a bad bullpen, mental mistakes, swarms of locusts, whatever.
Truly, breaching the subject of the Phils' lack of achievement despite stretches of more-than-mediocre seasons elicits an eclectic mix of optimism and ambivalence. Why, then, is the mere idea of contendership exciting to the Phaithful? These are sports fans who coincidentally have a lot of contempt for professional sports (one championship in over 120 years kind of gives them the right).
Once again I turn to the prodigious wisdom of my father, who, when pressed for an explanation for the Phillies' lack of accomplishment in eras where they were relatively accomplished for a Major League Baseball team (i.e. the mid-70s until the mid-80s) could only offer the following nugget:
"Aaaah, they were right there in '81."
Indeed, Philadelphia made it into a four-team National League playoff during the 1981 split-season. It created in situation in which you could legitimately claim the Phils' success really was achieved in only half a season, their postseason spot guaranteed by virtue of the best "first half" record in the NL East. Naturally, they sleepwalked through the second half and wound up falling to the Montreal Expos in a best-of-five division series.
These Phillies have done their best to emulate what now seems like an annual tradition--the skittish, wildly fluctuating month-to-month inconsistency of the clubs of the late Carlton/Schmidt Era. A .500 team on July 8, they are eight games over the break-even point since the All-Star Game, a swing that brings to mind the torrid/tepid dichotomy of 1981, the inception of the wild card replacing a midseason strike as an excuse for the occasional incompetence of a so-called serious pennant contender. Except that now this happens almost every year. Thanks, Commissioner Selig.
They are doing exactly what it takes to remain in the pennant race without looking like they really have what it takes to make it. They exist in the deeper end of the talent pool but still often find themselves an arm or two short (paging John Ennis), looking sharp but ultimately treading Perrier. They are the hype and hoopla of Snakes on a Plane culminating in something that's neither solidly scary nor funny. They are the "Also Receiving Votes" in the AP Poll, Miss Congeniality at the beauty pageant, and the recipients of the "Participant" ribbon at the Pinewood Derby--they are the quintessence of the also-ran.
They are the dreaded moment when I may someday have to explain to my own children that, even with a league MVP, a potential MVP, a potential Cy Young, and one of the best offenses of the decade in a hitter's park, the 2007 Phillies were "right there."
And with apologies to Harry Kalas, if that's where the Phils plan on staying while waiting for the dam to burst, I'd rather be outta here.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Cole Hamels Walks A Slippery Slope
Calling Philadelphia sports fans "fickle" is beyond hackneyed, not least of all because sports fans in general are all fickle by nature. When you invest a huge chunk of your time and emotions in a relationship that spans a lifetime, you're bound to have bipolar ups and downs and the intense desire to micromanage said relationship (albeit vicariously). We all want to see our favorite teams and players succeed. When they fail, a deeply resentful, self-loathing part of us feels personally responsible, and we must tear down the things we love either in order to begin anew or realize why we loved them so much in the first place.
From the moment Cole Hamels arrived at spring training, I was first in the Kool-Aid line. His recent arm troubles have worried me and I completely understand the organization's desire not to rush a young pitcher back onto the roster when the team's playoff chances, for the fifth consecutive season, awkwardly straddle the line between contender and pretender (presciently predicted elsewhere in the blogosphere).
However, I had to cringe when this Cole quote was broadcast from the Mothership:
1. Mike Lieberthal's ambivalent comments on the final game of the 2002 season, upon which the Phillies could have finished with either an 81-80 or 80-81 record (in other words, a marginal--but clear--winning or losing season) due to a rained-out game with the Braves that was never made up due to its irrelevance in deciding any pennant races. According to Lieby, the guys "didn't really care" even though it could have given the Phils their first back-to-back .500-plus seasons since the early '80s. Not only was this an affront to professionalism and pride, but also, I felt, a tactless sort of ignorance of the history of the franchise and the psyche of the Greater Philadelphia Fandom in general.
2. The legendary Scott Rolen imbroglio in the summer of 2002, which pitted the former fan favorite against quintessential Philly Guy (at the time) Larry Bowa, still in his honeymoon phase after 2001's inexplicable run at a division title. Once Rolen let on that he'd rather not be in Philadelphia, the fan reaction was swift and unmerciful. It is the cardinal sin of athletes in almost any professional city, unless they have already alienated the fan base by some other means, to publicly state what amounts to a civic insult.
Again, most fans cannot really be that fickle or demanding of individual athletes with the dawn of free agency--especially in baseball, where the most inevitable scenario involves a team with bigger coffers waiting to pluck your favorite slugger from your grasp as quickly as possible. There's actually quite a bit of truth in the tired aphorism "cheering for the uniforms." Any perceived disrespect or ambivalence for said uniforms is therefore a highly dangerous course to take if an athlete's popularity is to be considered--and, clearly, some don't consider it at all.
The athlete wants what is best for his career. The fan wants what is best for the team. And, eventually, the athlete breaks his crown careening down a hill of ignominy while the fans (and sometimes the franchise) come tumbling after.
Tread lightly, Cole.
From the moment Cole Hamels arrived at spring training, I was first in the Kool-Aid line. His recent arm troubles have worried me and I completely understand the organization's desire not to rush a young pitcher back onto the roster when the team's playoff chances, for the fifth consecutive season, awkwardly straddle the line between contender and pretender (presciently predicted elsewhere in the blogosphere).
However, I had to cringe when this Cole quote was broadcast from the Mothership:
If the Phillies have fallen too far out of playoff contention, "I don't think it would serve a purpose," Hamels said. "It would be too much of a risk, unless we're going for something. The goal is to finish the season healthy, whether it's two or three starts, but that all depends on our chances for the playoffs."This reminds me of two incidents from five years ago, one kind of minor and one major and neither of them very pleasant.
1. Mike Lieberthal's ambivalent comments on the final game of the 2002 season, upon which the Phillies could have finished with either an 81-80 or 80-81 record (in other words, a marginal--but clear--winning or losing season) due to a rained-out game with the Braves that was never made up due to its irrelevance in deciding any pennant races. According to Lieby, the guys "didn't really care" even though it could have given the Phils their first back-to-back .500-plus seasons since the early '80s. Not only was this an affront to professionalism and pride, but also, I felt, a tactless sort of ignorance of the history of the franchise and the psyche of the Greater Philadelphia Fandom in general.
2. The legendary Scott Rolen imbroglio in the summer of 2002, which pitted the former fan favorite against quintessential Philly Guy (at the time) Larry Bowa, still in his honeymoon phase after 2001's inexplicable run at a division title. Once Rolen let on that he'd rather not be in Philadelphia, the fan reaction was swift and unmerciful. It is the cardinal sin of athletes in almost any professional city, unless they have already alienated the fan base by some other means, to publicly state what amounts to a civic insult.
Again, most fans cannot really be that fickle or demanding of individual athletes with the dawn of free agency--especially in baseball, where the most inevitable scenario involves a team with bigger coffers waiting to pluck your favorite slugger from your grasp as quickly as possible. There's actually quite a bit of truth in the tired aphorism "cheering for the uniforms." Any perceived disrespect or ambivalence for said uniforms is therefore a highly dangerous course to take if an athlete's popularity is to be considered--and, clearly, some don't consider it at all.
The athlete wants what is best for his career. The fan wants what is best for the team. And, eventually, the athlete breaks his crown careening down a hill of ignominy while the fans (and sometimes the franchise) come tumbling after.
Tread lightly, Cole.
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