I'm reading my esteemed colleague's blog-post yesterday about Tim Russert, something to do with USA basketball (nobody cares, Sammy), and the Yankees-Astros series, when I came across something that caught my eye.
"The offense has some strong names with Berkman, Carlos Lee, and Miguel Tejada, but they're 9th in the NL with 311 runs. The 'Stros are tied with the Phillies at 5th in the NL with a team BA of .264. The difference is the Phillies have scored 381 runs. This Houston team does not make the most of their base hits."
I took the liberty of highlighting his last sentence, because it couldn't be more wrong. Indeed, both Houston and Philly have the same team batting average, and Philly has plated 70 more runners this season, but the significant difference in runs scored isn't due to Houston's inability to make the most of their hits, as Sammy suggests.
Looking at this more critically, you'll notice that Philly has a higher team on-base percentage(.343) than Houston (.322). So while Philly and Houston have indentical batting averages, the Phils have put more runners on base (clogging up the bases is good!), and they've taken advantage of it.
Of course all this underscores the importance of OBP%, the single most important offensive statistic in baseball. It measures how often a player doesn't make an out, which is pretty important when you're limited to just 27 per game.
The Astros are hitting about as well as we expected, but the problem is they don't have runners on base to benefit from these hits. Hitters, like the immortal Lance Berkman, have hot streaks, but they also go into slumps. And it's important for these hitters to find a way on base -- taking a walk -- when mired in a 3-25 slump, because those things happen.
All this is a perfect seque into my post. I think I should point out I'm not trying to pick on Sammy. I'm merely using his unintentionally misguided assertion as an example.
There are some fans, and many more executives within the game, who hate the Sabrmetric movement, which was founded by Bill James in some Kansas City peanut factory more than 30 years ago.
The idea is to use statistics, both numbers and probability, to guide player personnel moves, in-game decisions, draft picks -- for instance, statistics show it's much more prudent to draft college pitcher in lieu of high school hurlers, the latter of which has a long and dated history of flaming out before reaching the big leagues -- and every other pertinent decision involving the construction of a professional baseball team.
My aim is to congenially explain a nerd's perspective of the game, and why stats are important, all without blogging from my mother's basement.
Here's the situation around which I'll base my post:
The Red Sox lead the Yankees, 3-2 in the Bottom of the 7th, but the Yankees have two runners on, with two outs, and Jason Giambi coming to the plate.
Bartolo Colon, already 110 pitches deep into his outing, is pitching well but laboring. Javier Lopez and the 2004 version of Mike Timlin (read: when he was good).
Manager Terry Francona has a decision to make. Does he let Wakefield pitch to Giambi? Does he bring in Lopez? Timlin?
He pulls the spreadsheet. He looks at the matchup and notices that Giambi has had success against Colon, (.286/.375/.536) with 2 HR in 28 career at-bats against the portly right-hander. Colon's already laboring, and having him face Giambi, a hitter who's been relatively successful against him in his career, is too risky.
So he tries to decide which guy, Timlin or Lopez, to bring into the game. He looks deeper into the numbers and realizes that Giambi, a left-handed batter, struggles against southpaws (.238./.370/.473) since 2005. He also knows not to bring Timlin into the game with runners on-base, because his inherited runners % is among the worst in the game.
Francona, like any other manager who's good at managing and wants to remain at the helm, elects to bring in the left-handed Lopez to face Giambi. It's the prudent decision. He used numbers, and probability, to make this decision. He didn't "have a hunch," a lazy man's way of handling the situation. He didn't use his gut-instinct or impulsiveness to make the move. He performed his due diligence and used thought-provoking analysis to come to his ultimate decision.
You see, success in baseball -- and in life, for that matter -- is most easily attained by one who rationalizes his decisions, one who takes into account all variables and chooses the path that's most likely to lead to wealth, fortune, happiness, or in the example above, the path that's most likely to lead to Giambi's walking back to the Yankees' dugout -- head down, sulking, because he just ruined what was perhaps his team's best chance at victory.
The lesson is that often times, especially in this case, ignorance isn't bliss.
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