By jdawg
January 30, 2007 -

In the last episode (you wouldn't know since you didn't read it), we looked at how our brethren (and sistren) often become embroiled in a battle of wills over the value of journalists (the jury is out), and the validity of rumors. We also saw how quickly I am able to bore my readers into a catatonic state. In this nail-gripping sequel, we look at another emotion-rousing, hackle-raising, danders-upping issue: are the stats guys actually watching games where players pitch, hit and run, and are the guys who eschew stats misinterpreting what they are seeing with their own two eyes (sort of like saying that Rey Ordonez looks great as a hitter)?

As a middle-grounder, I’d like to be the first to admit that I like stats…really. I especially like the stats that allow me to look back and say, “Ya’ know.. I think Mike Cubbage was better than I remember seeing. He was simply unlucky in the field and at bat; his peripherals were really outstanding.” As an historian (not of baseball), it allows for revisionist theory where actual footage is missing. When I was a mere lad of ten, I remember impatiently awaiting the Sunday morning Newsday (alas, how the mighty have fallen) so that I could memorize the limited stats offered for the major leagues before my mother would say time for church. Prayer really didn’t help the Mets in the 70s. Each week, Doug Flynn was easily found in the sea of names; I merely looked at the bottom of the hitting statistics.

I also have to admit, I do like actually watching the games. I feel that Tom would enjoy one as well (he is, in fairness, looking for his missing nut from this past off-season, however). The crack of the bat on cable--there is nothing like it (especially on TBS, with Don Sutton throwing his beauteous maxims in limpid poetry). Sometimes I look at a player and say, “Boy, he really has no clue at the plate,” or “Wow, I’m surprised he is not better regarded as a fielder.” Then, I read that I saw wrong...he really is a quality player. As I have grown older, I know my-opia has regressed to no-opia, but I wonder, can I really be that wrong?

Apparently, I can.

Luckily, Tom, Mangey, Lackey (among others) have set me free from the bondage of my observations. As an added bonus, Mangey, whilst throwing some obscure stat up my observation, also throws some Bertrand Russell quote my way; I am dis-armed and dis-eyed. I do credit the “digi-minds” for expanding my repertoire of stats from ERA, RBIs and BA to include a player’s ERA+ , OBPS, WHIPs, and CHaINs, so that while I am thinking, “boy, Joe McEwing really cannot hit anymore,” I can whip out a stat to prove that what I am seeing truly is…well, what I am seeing. Unfortunately, as far as range factor is concerned, I may as well be attempting to learn Latin via CD, ceteris paribus.

I do believe I am pretty open-minded to statistics and believe almost everything the stat guys tell me about them. I also believe that the 2001 Tax Cut and Medicare reforms are in my best interest. Unfortunately, when I hear my 93 year-old grandmother asking how the new drug benefit helps her, I tell her, “Grandma, you were a Brooklyn Dodger fan…no amount of medication will help you.” She is un-amused. Incidentally, she attended grade school with Gigawit.

What I wonder is how we can believe statistics when they indicate that stolen bases have no effect on team success, that a pitchers win-loss percentage has nothing to do with their pitching prowess, that there are no stats for momentum and team chemistry and that Adam Dunn’s strikeouts and walks with men on base are not a bad thing. Caseythirtyseven’s erudite, “what cost a stolen base” (in eecummings formatting) clearly shows that…well, I’m not sure what it shows, but I think it agrees that statistics do not account for everything.

Really, though, I judge the value of a statistic in the only way that matters. If it agrees with my opinions most of the time, it must be valid; if it disagrees with me most of the time, it is faulty.

Case in point, in 1981, Pat Zachary had an ERA of 4.14 in 139 innings, while giving up 151 hits, and walking 56. His ERA+ was 84 so we have to add that to his ERA and voila, his adjusted ERA is 92.14. His WHIP was 1.489, while his CHaINs were a hair over 3.141592653589793238462643383279. His DVVGF on his pitches were 9.807. These statistics seem to indicate that he had a sub-par year in 1981, and might be used to predict a fall-off in performance the next year… In layman’s terms, he stunk. Well, of course he did; he was 7-14 in 24 starts. (Incidentally, I agree with these statistics since they agree with my original postulation born of observation; he stunk)

This really does not account for the anger exhibited on both sides of the epee-metric debate. There must be room for each side to give. For instance, can’t Mangey just invent a statistic that shows that momentum has an effect on a baseball game? Can’t NCMetfan just tell Tom, “I see your point, Tom, and agree that Rey Ordonez was just unlucky in each of his 461 at bats in 2001? It indubitably would provide an explanation for the sometimes odd synchronicity of opinions on NYFS, provide a synergy that would make each part of the whole feel good about themselves and allow Ed to update NYFS point totals instead of moderating arguments. Without the ever-present anti-stat diatribes on the boards, it might also allow time for Mangey to explain what the crap Bertrand Russell is talking about.

Everyone wants to merely feel good about what they see, whether it be numbers, or an actual ballgame. No one here should have to feel defensive about simply wanting to watch a game without statistics. Conversely, no one should be made to feel bad about enhancing their viewing experiences with statistics, except for those who refuse to pad mine by reading this drivel. The beauty of the game of baseball is truly in the eyes of the beholder.

Enjoy the tripe; I’m here all week.