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December 2, 2004

Under The Knife

All Others Must Have Data

by Will Carroll

Perhaps my favorite line from Moneyball didn't make it into the book. In my interview with Michael Lewis on Baseball Prospectus Radio, he said that "the real lesson of Moneyball might be not to trust what you think you know." Rick Peterson has a mantra of "In God we trust; all others need data." You'd think that hanging around this bunch of baseball geniuses would rub off, but I found myself falling into the trap of perception backed up by my own lyin' eyes.

It started with a quick news item on the indispensable Rotowire. Jaret Wright was thinking of signing with the Mariners, coincidentally the new employer of his former manager, Mike Hargrove. Hargrove has something of a reputation as a pitching woodchipper, with Wright often presented as an example of his carelessness. Wright's long struggle with a variety of arm problems surely calls into question the load placed on him as a 21- and 22-year-old, right in the danger zone noted by Nate Silver's "Injury Nexus" research.

I'd thought that Wright had been used too much in that brief, shining moment he had in 1997 and perhaps in the afterglow of '98. While he went over 200 innings in both seasons (including the minors in '97), he really wasn't significantly overused. PAP numbers and even pitch counts aren't handy, but the historical BP comments at the bottom of his PECOTA card give us plenty of information.

Wright wasn't overused during his stay in the minors due to the pitcher's friend, the non-arm injury. He got cracked with a bat, breaking his jaw in mid-'96, preventing him from throwing the innings that might have put his workload across a threshold of concern. In '97, he went all the way to Game Seven of the World Series, but the postseason actually didn't add much to his workload. He had a disastrous ALCS outing, lasting less than an inning, and pitched fewer than 25 innings over five games. Discounting that poor outing, he still averaged just six innings per start. His control gave some indication of fatigue, but the postseason calls for rough usage. Flags fly forever, while arms can lie limp at a pitcher's side for just as long.

Wright was often compared to the other young stud in the Tribe rotation, Bartolo Colon. Their numbers don't match up well--Colon is better in nearly every category and clearly "got it." We know now that Colon is a "coaster," easing off in non-pressure situations, building relative strength as the game goes on. Wright lacked a credible breaking ball, forcing him to bring the heat more and more despite any fatigue. Add in a motion that, according to an AL executive I spoke with, was "inconsistent to the nth degree. He was constantly tinkering, changing, and if I didn't know better, I'd say overthinking."

Wright's original pitching coach, Mark Wiley, left after the '98 campaign. He was followed by Phil Regan, then Dick Pole. During this time, Wright's shoulder was breaking down. When it finally gave way, no amount of mechanical tinkering was going to help. For nearly five years, it seemed like the best medical tinkering wasn't going to be enough either. Rotator cuff surgery, labrum surgery, and even a Modified Mumford--a shaving of the clavicle to cease a shoulder impingement--did little or nothing to help. Wright soldiered along through a couple organizations that remembered those fastballs he threw in the World Series, but showed nothing resembing the phenom of '97.