The weird thing about the standings in the AL so far this season is how closely they match the projected standings based on runs scored and runs allowed. Usually this early there are more anomalies, more instances of division rivals whose positions in the standings don’t reflect the caliber of baseball they’ve played. (Clay Davenport has taken this notion to an extreme, which you can find both in last week’s article and every day in his Adjusted Standings.) Looking just at Pythagorean records, though, the entire American League is lining up the way it should.
The NL is quite a different story. The Central’s four contenders are separated by just two games in the stadings, but a whopping nine games based on runs. The Reds’ sweep of the Cardinals closed the gap between the two teams to just a game, but the Cards have outscored their opponents by 50 runs, while the Reds have been outscored by 48, while the Astros and Cubs fall between those extremes. In the West, the seven-game edge the Giants have on the Dodgers is not reflected in the runs the two teams have scored; the Dodgers have a .596/.592 edge in expected winning percentage.
One of the things I’m seeing more and more of–and no, I’m not arrogant enough to take credit for this–is people discussing injuries and their effects on teams and individuals. There’s always been an ebb and flow around big injuries, but I’m starting to see a very subtle shift. There are big debates over pitch counts, discussions with team doctors, and even articles that intelligently discuss age-based overuse. Injury analysis will probably have a slower acceptance curve than performance analysis–and we all know how slow that move has been–but we’re here at the beginning. Pioneers, of a sort. Kinda cool.
I usually try to start off light. I give some fun fact, share a bit of my day, joke about my coffee addiction, or riff on what I like about UTK–that it feels more like me talking to a friend than a big, formal column. Tonight, I’m somewhere between angry, dumbfounded, frustrated, exhausted, and just laughing at it all. As much as injury information and performance analysis is a true disruptive technology–remember that phrase–in baseball, the old school is hanging onto the reins and playing craps with the future of players and teams. Let’s get to the destruction.
I guess PECOTA warned us with the 19.5% attrition rate. I even suggested it might happen. But I sure didn’t see it coming this quickly. After a 28-pitch, breaking ball-filled inning, Josh Beckett was pulled “as a precaution” after complaining of stiffness and pain on the inside of his pitching elbow. Anyone want to venture a guess as to what these symptoms suggest? The Marlins already have Beckett headed to see Jim Andrews. I don’t think Jim gives volume discounts, but he should consider it. The Marlins have treated Beckett with a gentler hand than they did A.J. Burnett. Beckett did cross the 100-pitch barrier in each of his last three starts (6 innings/107 pitches, 7/115, and 6.2/105), but none of these are outrageous counts.
So let’s compare Beckett’s efficiency to that of say, Mark Mulder. Mulder has thrown three straight complete games–a big no-no in the age of strict pitch counts, right? How did Rick Peterson allow this? Simple. Mulder went 96 pitches in two starts, and 105 in the last. Pitch efficiency is looking more and more important. To get back to Beckett, he is headed to Dr. Andrews and we should know more shortly. Until then, try to breathe, Marlins fans. Try to breathe.
Toldyaso.
It doesn’t matter whether your game is roto, Strat, Scoresheet, or fantasy NASCAR: Drafting for value is the right way to go. Cute little strategies might help to break a tie, and a mastery of bidding psychology can matter at the margins, but sound player evaluation is the name of the game. Between the PECOTA projections and the Will Carroll Walking Injury Database, we felt that Team BP was in an in ideal situation to leverage our edge in information into success in Tout Wars. The results so far have been affirming: in spite of some disappointing individual performances, we’re in first place by a healthy margin.
It’s too soon, of course, to come to any conclusions about how the standings will end up–hell, it’s early enough in the season that Carl Everett hasn’t even been suspended yet. Still, there are a few take-home lessons from the season thus far, as embodied by some of our more successful acquisitions and strategies.
Angels: Star Performer: Much like Dirk Diggler in the closing scene of Boogie Nights, the Anaheim Angels’ bullpen has been a bright, shining star this season. First in the AL in Adjusted Runs Prevented–and third in the majors, overall–the Anaheim relief squadron is essentially the only thing keeping the team afloat at this point, save Garret Anderson’s continuing quest to make statheads taste their own bile.
Cubs: Lineup: The biggest lineup concern continues to be at third base, where
Mark Bellhorn has not been able to get it going. Bellhorn provides two valuable skills–power and patience-which theoretically can trump a low batting average. Unfortunately, thus far he is showing no power at all (five extra base hits in 28 games) and is hitting just .214. Although I am sure this is making Jeff Bower giddy, Dusty Baker is less amused.
Tigers: Streaks: The Tigers stood at 3-20 in late April at the end of their road series with the AL West. But stop the presses! They’re on a four-game winning streak! Here’s how they have done against the AL East:
Home vs. Baltimore: 0-3, 9 runs scored, 22 runs against
Home vs. Tampa Bay: 1-2, 13 runs scored, 13 runs against
At Baltimore: 3-0, 22 runs scored, 11 runs against
I’ve been talking lately to fans of different sports, and thinking about what makes baseball fans–seriously fanatical baseball fans, the people who would identify baseball as their favorite sport and might have to think about it if you asked them who the runner-up was–different.
Baseball is so special, in its season, that it seeps into the follower from day to day and week to week. Football fans, for instance, get one three-hour game a week and then speculation on who’ll be the starting quarterback and other scraps of news. Baseball offers us nearly a game a day, each day a fact: my team won or my team lost. There’s news, streaks broken and started, debuts to watch, slumps, hot streaks, every morning you get up and read something new in the sports section.
There’s one particular baseball play that I don’t get: First and third (or
bases loaded) and two outs, ground ball hit to a middle infielder who throws
to his double-play partner for a force at second base. Most of the time,
you’ll see the runner slide into the bag, and the times he doesn’t, it’s
because he’s nowhere near it when the play is made.
Why?
Sliding has two purposes: avoiding a tag and decelerating into a base you
can’t legally overrun. While the above fits the latter category, it’s a
situation where the cost of deceleration is greater than the penalty for
overunning the bag. If a runner instead chose to sprint through second base
and keep heading for third, he might be safe–I don’t know, let’s say one time
in 20, but I think it would be more than that–but every time he was
safe, a run would score, with the runner likely being out in a tag play on
his way to third base.
I suppose you could argue that the runner slides in case the middle infielders
botch the play, but I don’t buy that, because an error gets made there about
as often as I eat tofu. It seems to me that teams are “giving up”
here, where a more aggressive approach–running through the bag and making the
turn–could steal a few runs a season. This wouldn’t apply all the time; some
plays are going to be close enough to warrant a slide, and on others the
runner isn’t close enough to bother. But on maybe 40% to 50% of these plays, a
meek slide into second base reduces the chance that the run will score for no
reason other than politeness.
Is there something I’m missing, a rule dating from the days of John McGraw’s
Orioles that disallows this practice? Or is it something from the Big Bob
Book of Unwritten Rules, with its pages and pages of crayon drawings?
Baseball Prospectus: Where in the rulebook does it say?
a) Tie goes to the runner.
Jim Evans: It doesn’t. It states that a runner is out IF the defensive team tags him or his base BEFORE he reaches it. The implication is if the tag doesn’t occur first (not at the same time or after), the runner would be safe.
BP: b) A check swing is a strike if the batter breaks his wrists.
JE: The wrists are never mentioned in the rulebook. A swinging strike is based solely on the umpire’s judgment of whether or not the batter committed to the pitch. Check swings are very difficult calls. Base umpires are often able to make more accurate decisions on check swings because their attention can be focused solely on the bat since they are not obligated to call the pitch.
BP: c) The hands are part of the bat.
JE: This is another misconception. The hands are NOT part of the bat. If a pitched ball hits the hands and the batter did not attempt to swing, it is a hit batsman. If a pitched ball hits the hands as he swings, it is a strike and the ball is dead. Reference: Rule 2.00 Strike (e.)
Michael Wolverton looks at caught stealing rates, Clay Davenport clears up a debate, and Will Carroll wants more meaningful discussion of drug abuse in baseball. Plus other bits and bites.
The baseball season has reached its adolescence. Oh sure, there are the still the occasional temper tantrums, the delusions of grandeur, the fashion faux pas. But the season has been around for long enough that we can’t totally dismiss it, even when it mouths off without reason or, convinced of its own invincibility, it pushes its limits a bit too far.
The PECOTA system wasn’t originally designed to update its forecasts in real time, but through some creative mathematics we can adapt it to that purpose. In particular, we can evaluate its projections by means of a something called a binomial distribution (geek alert: if you’re uninterested in the math here, the proper sequence of keystrokes is Alt+E+F+”Blalock”). The binomial distribution is a way to test the probability that a particular outcome will result in a particular number of trials when we know the underlying probability of an event. For example, the probability of a “true” .300 hitter getting six or more hits in a sequence of 15 at bats is around 27.8 percent. (The binomial distribution’s cousin, the Poisson distribution, has a cooler name but is less mathematically robust).
A couple of important objections are going to be raised here. First, the binomial distribution is designed to test outcomes in cases in which there are mutually exclusive definitions of success and failure–for example, “hit” and “out,” or “Emmy Nomination” and “WB Network.” The measures of offensive performance that we tend to favor don’t readily meet that criterion. Second, the binomial distribution assumes that we know the intrinsic probability of an event occurring, as we would with a dice roll or coin flip. But we never really know what a baseball player’s underlying ability is–we’re left to make a best guess based on his results, presumably coming closer to the mark as the sample size increases.
The first problem has an intriguing, if mathematically sketchy solution in the form of Equivalent Average, which is scaled to take on roughly the same distribution as batting average, even though it accounts for all major components of offensive performance. So, we could test the probability of a “true” .300 EqA hitter putting up an EqA of .400 in 15 plate appearances by assuming that this is equivalent to six successes (40%) in 15 trials. Since I haven’t heard any objections, let’s roll with it.
Last week, I wrote about what baseball can do to improve the selection of owners. This week, I want to focus on the game’s structure. Frankly it’s a column that, if I thought I could get away with it, would consist of six words: Stop trying to be the NFL.
Since 1994, when the game went to three divisions in each league and began allowing non-division winners into the playoffs, MLB has moved inexorably toward becoming Just Another Sports League. While the game’s administrators like to defend the changes by invoking the need to appeal to young people and a broad audience of sports fans, the fact is that every single move has been reactionary, every one has eliminated a point of differentiation between MLB and the other three major sports, and none of them have shown any level of insight beyond: “How can we get more TV money right now?”
Believe it or not–and for people who know me, this will come as a shock–I spent most of Tuesday speechless. At an hour much too early for me to be up, and not having had near enough coffee (or alcohol), I was squeezed into the back seat of an Indy Car today and taken around the track. I can’t begin to describe the experience, but suffice it to say that I came away with a new respect for what athletes these drivers are, how much courage–or stupidity–they have, and the fact that I really, really want to buy one of those when I win the lottery! If you have a couple hundred bucks lying around and you’re near a track when the IRL comes through, I can’t recommend this highly enough. Never mind that Robin Miller of ESPN made fun of me all afternoon, reminding me that I only went 180 or so–racing was a blast.
The Mets need to blow up the team and start over. The Rockies swing through the NL East in a key two-week stretch. The Orioles could turn over 1/5 of the roster and improve based on their Triple-A talent. Plus notes on Mike Piazza, Shawn Chacon, and the Baltimore rotation.
There are few things in this world that confound me more than our obsession with other people’s opinions.
Honestly, why is it that we spend so much time caring if Martin Sheen is anti-war, Dennis Miller is pro-war, or if Leonardo DiCaprio is pro-hazlenut? So what if a reliever having a somewhat surprisingly good year is uncomfortable with guys who like other guys, in a different way. Big deal.
I’m referring, of course, to last week’s comments in the The Denver Post from Rockies pitcher Todd Jones, which read: “I wouldn’t want a gay guy being around me. It’s got nothing to do with me being scared. That’s the problem: All these people say he’s got all these rights. Yeah, he’s got rights or whatever, but he shouldn’t walk around proud. It’s like he’s rubbing it in our face. ‘See me, hear me roar.’ We’re not trying to be close-minded, but then again, why be confrontational when you don’t really have to be?”
Once again, I spent my day at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Due to rain and wind, we weren’t able to go out on the track, but we did discover that I will be the one in the car tomorrow morning. We’ll go out at around 200 mph and I’m as scared as I am excited. I’ve seen major league fastballs before, and standing in the pits watching Tora Takagi fly by me at 229 mph was every bit as awe-inspiring. The car rushes down the long straight, sucking up air, whooshes by with 800 horsepower screaming, and then vanishes into a tunnel they call a turn. They’re going to strap me into one of those tomorrow. I’m not sure if I wouldn’t rather face Roger Clemens when he’s cross-eyed and angry.
The Red Sox channel the spirit of Jerry Remy to shake off their sloth-like ways, the Reds ask who’s on third, and the Padres would be nuts to convert Oliver Perez to closer. Plus more news and notes from Boston, Cincy, and San Diego.