Baseball's Statistical Overload

Baseball is a historical game of statistics. No other sport wraps the past and the present together with a warm blanket of numbers like baseball does.

Unfortunately, over the last the last few years that blanket has become suffocating.

Computer-crazed statisticians are digging up too much irrelevant data and creating confusing new statistical categories. TV announcers love to read off the stats which leave my head spinning under the avalanche of information.

The irrelevant information overload is amped up during national telecasts. ESPN spits out more stats than today’s players emit tobacco juice. The other day I learned that rookie phenom Mike Trout is hitting .411 on pitches in the bottom third of the strike zone. And since he’s hitting over .350 he’s probably doing quite well on pitches in the middle and top third of the strike zone too. Then I was told that Josh Hamilton misses hitting the ball on 36 percent of his swings. The other 64 percent of his swings usually send the ball over the fence for a home run.

Speaking of home runs, I’ve always been curious as to how they accurately measure their distances. Homers rarely complete their travels. And there isn’t a guy out there with a tape measure like a judge at the Olympics marking the distance of the javelin throwers. So, EPSN was able to tell me that Mark Trumbo has the best average home run distance, at 418 feet. Then ESPN went one crazy detail further. Now they are measuring the speed of the home runs. Torii Hunter and Trumbo have the top two homer speeds at 107.5 and 107.3 mph respectively. I don’t care. It’s just technology overkill.

Thankfully, once in awhile a useful tidbit of data is revealed that prevents me from hitting the mute button. For example, ESPN said that Trout is the first player ever to get 100 hits, 15 homers, and 30 stolen bases in his first 75 career games. Additionally, nobody has ever hit .340 with 20 homers and 40 steals in a season, as Trout is on pace to do. Now there’s info that tells me something by comparing his numbers to the historical greats of the game.

There has also been an onslaught of new statistical categories. One of them is OPS which stands for “on base percentage plus slugging percentage”.  This category is supposed to be a better gauge of a hitter’s productivity. In the past, we judged a hitter on his batting average, homeruns, and RBI. Now with OPS, we can take into account how often he is getting on base and how many bases he is accruing with each hit. The trouble with OPS is that I never know how it compares. I don’t have the great OPS numbers of history lodged in my memory like I do with batting average, homers, and RBI. I have to look up the top OPS stats to get an idea. It’s too much work.

Then there’s WHIP, which apparently is like OPS for pitchers. This one is figured by dividing a pitcher’s walks and hits by his innings pitched. Again, as with OPS, I don’t relate to WHIP number because the all-time top WHIPs haven’t been passed down to me over time. A pitcher’s ERA is all I need to know if he’s good or not.

The most confusing new stat is WAR, or “wins above replacement”. WAR is supposed to show how many more wins a player would give his team over a replacement minor league or a substitute player. WAR can be calculated for pitchers and hitters. Good luck if you want to understand how WAR is actually figured. Looking at the stats, there are only three household names in the top 20 single-season WAR leaders: Babe Ruth, Walter Johnson, and Dwight Gooden. The other names on the list played in the 1800s. Does this mean that the players back then were better? Or maybe the replacement players weren’t so good. I have no idea. The career WAR leader board looks like a list of Hall of Fame members. So WAR is correct in telling us that the great players of history were actually just that, great. Thanks for the newsflash.

All of these new categories can be dissected at the mother-load of all stat websites, baseball-reference.com. The best thing this site does is it connects today’s players with those from history. For example, say you want to see how Chipper Jones stacks up against the best of the best. Plug his name in and baseball-reference.com will give you the players most similar to him based on their career stats. Four of the top 10 names on list are Hall of Famers. A few others have a chance to get in too. Chipper looks like a lock for Cooperstown.

That’s the kind of information I want to hear during a telecast. Don’t try to blow me away with numbers based on hyped-up technology. Instead, keep the announcing moving forward by connecting the present with the past.

The Art of Shopping for a New Dog

A good roommate is like a priceless piece of art, especially the four-legged kind. A few weeks ago I adopted a new dog, Peetey, who is quickly settling into his role as best friend. The search for Peetey started the day school was over. I found that adopting a new dog can be harder than buying a car. At least autos have car-fax reports.

I began my search online. Websites like petfinder.com help to provide a launching pad for pet searches. You can hunt by breed, location, age, and gender. I quickly learned that there are more available dogs out there than Americans on unemployment. Rescue groups post profiles about the dogs. You can see photos and videos as well as find out if the dogs are housebroken, spade/neutered, and good with kids or mailmen. From there you can check out the rescue group’s website and find even more available dogs. It’s heartbreaking how many homeless dogs there are. However, these groups would rather part with the crown jewels than one of their precious pooches.

Off the bat, I found a dog of the pug/beagle variety like the late, great Starbuck, my previous dog who passed on in January. First, I had to fill out an application that was more extensive than my last job interview. They wanted to know where the dog will live, how long it will be alone, and what will happen to it if he/she outlives me. At least they didn’t ask what will happen to it in the event of rapture (aftertherapturepetcare.com). Then someone had to examine my house to make sure my yard was secure and that Michael Vick wasn’t hiding in a closet. I failed the inspection to my surprise. The latch on my gate was sub-par. The boards on my fence were suspect. My yard would be too hot in the summer and because I don’t have a doggie door into the house, a pug might either overheat or spontaneously combust. Even though Starbuck never escaped or died from heat stroke it was obvious that these people weren’t going to give me a dog.

The next option was going to the SPCA where the adoption fees are much less but with them comes the saying “you get what you pay for”. I spent a Saturday afternoon at an adoption event in Long Beach. I could have come away with 12 dogs. They’re basically giving them away. There’s no lengthy application or home inspection. You spend a few minutes with the dog of choice and that’s it. If you wish, you can adopt right there. I kind of liked one dog, but there was no guarantee that he was house-trained or well-adjusted. I passed on the SPCA.

So, it was back to the rescue groups. I visited one in Marina Del Rey where I met Peetey. Each dog at this site came with a sponsor/volunteer who was responsible for boarding the dog during the week and for monitoring its behavior. Peetey’s sponsors were a neat couple named Barb and Lonnie. We walked Peetey together while they unobtrusively got to know me. They felt that Peetey was a great dog for me. I was comfortable enough putting in an application. But I had to wait to see if I was good enough for the rescue group.

Soon thereafter I began emailing with a lady named Susan who helps run the rescue group. Without knowing me or knowing much about Peetey, she raised concerns that he wasn’t housebroken and that I needed to hire a dog-walker while I am at work. I said that wasn’t necessary because I am home every day after school with plenty of time to walk a dog. I was beginning to think that these rescue groups want a doggie Shangri-La; a large yard in Palos Verdes with two retired owners who cater to their pet’s every need. I think they forget one crucial element – they are dogs! They need care and attention, but they are also hearty creatures. They don’t have to live in paradise. Give them food, water, shelter, exercise, and love and they’re abundantly happy!

Meanwhile, Lonnie cyber-stalked me and found this blog site, which reconfirmed in his mind that I was a more-than suitable owner for Peetey. Thankfully, Lonnie, and not Susan, got to make the final decision. Peetey’s a really good boy. He’s very different from Starbuck, but he’s a lot of fun and has a sweet personality.

All dog owners wish they could know what their pet is thinking. Author Garth Stein has done this beautifully in the brilliant and touching book, “The Art of Racing in the Rain.” In the book, Enzo the dog is owned by a race-car driver named Denny. He and Denny love to watch racing together on TV. They have a wonderful relationship and Enzo supports Denny during a very rough time of life.

Starbuck was very Enzo-like in my life. Peetey has some big paws to fill. At home, he seems to enjoy his new slice of paradise and I’m thankful to have a pastime viewing partner. He loves the Angels, despises the Yankees, and agrees on the need for instant replay. I am thrilled for this new chapter in my life, which I am calling: the Art of Baseball Watching in (Shangri)-LA.

A Birthday Party for a Country

Everybody loves a good ol’ fashioned birthday party, right? Birthday parties are a special time to commemorate surviving another lap around the sun. Parents love to break the bank on parties for children too young to understand what is happening. In return, children then go overboard on parties for their parents who are too old to remember what they had for breakfast.

There are going to be countless parties and BBQs today in celebration of our independence. There will buckets of beans, piles of potato salad, and enough beef on the grill to fill the Statue of Liberty. Fireworks will light the sky and kids will play with sparklers. Neighborhood firecrackers will send dogs scurrying under beds and flag-shaped cakes dotted with blueberries will be featured on Facebook.

These will be wonderful celebrations, but they won’t be birthday parties. So let’s throw America a birthday party. To start, we’ll need a location. Philadelphia comes to mind. Although, there are 20 states that have towns called Freedom. Nine states have cities named Independence. I’ll go with Missouri’s since it is centrally located and the most well-known.

What about the guest list? Anyone who calls themselves an American is invited. But this will be a party without hyphens. For a day, we won’t be Italian-Americans, or African-American, or Asian-Americans. If you came to this country to seek a better life or if you’re descended from someone who crossed the Pacific, the Rio Grande, or the Atlantic yearning to breathe free then you’re invited. There will have to be a small admission fee, because living in this country takes sacrifice and our freedom has cost many patriotic lives. That said, all veterans and current members of the armed forces will get in free.

The menu will be as eclectic as the makeup of our country. A melting pot of foods and flavors will join together to represent the people of all nationalities who have come to America and worked to build it into a great republic over the last 239 years. Imagine a feast with not just hotdogs and apple pie, but enchiladas, lomo saltado, spring rolls, corned beef, yakisoba, egusi soup, tandori chicken, baklava, and ravioli. The dessert table alone will be impressive: biscotti and cannoli, macaroons and tea cakes, stroopwafels, flodebollers, and sopapillas with a side of dolce de leche.

I’d like to bring in the Reverend Billy Graham to bless the meal, but because America is a built on freedom of religion everybody in attendance will be free to give thanks in their own way, or respectfully abstain if they so choose.

Entertainment? Of course! But there might not be enough hours in the day to fully allow for all of the music and dancing to take place. We’ll need sound stages to be erected for music from jazz to mariachi. We’ll need dance floors laid out to hold the rhythmic styles from Argentina to Zimbabwe. Every tree can hold a piñata for the kids and the old men can play bocce ball and toss horse shoes.  

Think of the conversations to be had around the fire pits as the sun goes down. I’d want to talk to a WWII vet, or a New York City firefighter, or a member of NASA who worked to send Neil Armstrong to the moon. Then the slideshow will start. Narrated by Morgan Freeman, we’d see shots of famous people and video clips of historic moments. We’d hear sound bites of memorably monogrammed speeches from FDR to MLK to JFK.

Lastly, when the dark of night had completely arrived, the fireworks will start. And with the background music playing, my mind will wander. I’d think about how thankful I am to live in this great country ours. And that even though it has many zits, and scars, issues and problems America is still the leader of the free world. It’s a country full of the most generous, forgiving, creative, innovative, courageous, driven, and victorious people in the world.

And despite its problems, it is still the country where people write the scripts of their own lives. It’s a place where one’s destiny is not predetermined. Every American is a writer, a producer, and a director of the movie of their own lives. “What to be, where to live, whom to love, whom to marry, what to believe, what religion to practice – these are all decisions that Americans make for themselves,” writes Dinesh D’Souza in the book “What’s So Great About America”. And as the last rocket blasts its red glare I will wonder if that’s what Thomas Jefferson had in mind when he penned the phrase, “Pursuit of Happiness.” I think it is.

So as we all take a break from our pursuits today, don’t forget to wish our great nation a happy birthday. Fly your flags. Be thankful for freedom and independence. 

And then pass me a cannoli.