Baseball and the KISS method

For whatever it's worth, I dedicate the following to a guy named Al that I've never met. All I know is he reads my nonsense once in a while, and can be a pretty sharp critic at times -- which is a good thing. At any rate, his comment on my previous post got me thinking about the "old days".

I don't know who first came up with it, but there's a lot to be said about the KISS method. Keep It Simple Stupid.

Especially when it comes to major league baseball. Like every other pro sport, certain statistics are kept on players to judge their performance, but this has gotten out of control.

It used to be pretty simple. If a batter had an average over .300, he was a good hitter. More than 30 home runs and/or 100 RBIs during the course of a season made him a "slugger".  If he stole more than, say, 30 bases, he was fast. Everybody understood this.

Pitchers were judged on their win/loss records and earned run average. Everybody understood that as well.

Not any more. The people that cover MLB now have "stats from hell" coming at us. You name a way to twist numbers into indecipherable gibberish, and if they haven't found it yet, they're likely working on it.

They came out with "slugging percentage" a while back. I think I figured that one out. Take the number of total bases a batter racked up and divide it by how many "at-bats" he had. But that could be deceiving. If a batter struck out 3 times, then hit a homer in his last at-bat, his slugging percentage would be 1.000. 4 times up, 4 total bases. But batting 1.000 sounds pretty good -- right? Maybe, maybe not.

"On base percentage" was a little trickier. Hits and walks are to the batter's credit, but getting hit by a pitched ball doesn't show any skill, nor does reaching base only because an opposing player made an error in the field. When a batter grounds into a "force play", whereby another base runner is out, but the batter reaches first base by default, does it still count as getting "on base"? Beats me, but I wouldn't doubt it. Chalk up another stat.

Then the stat monsters came out with OPS. The baseball writers, columnists here and there, and the talking heads will tell you all about it, but I doubt they have a clue how it's actually calculated. All they know is .700 is pretty good, and anything above that is excellent. Albert Einstein himself would have probably had a tough time grasping the actual formula, and exactly how it translates to a player's value, which is shown at the end of this article.

Pitchers are now judged on WHIP. I think this has something to do with their average number of walks and hits allowed for every inning pitched. More worthless stats. If a pitcher walks a batter and gives up a hit every inning, his WHIP would probably be lousy. But if he bears down and is capable of holding the other team to no runs during that inning -- then who cares? Maybe the people that should be WHIPed are the folks that dream up these stats in the first place.

And somebody please tell me why a starting pitcher is normally good to throw well over 100 pitches in a game, but a reliever is burned out after maybe 30? Consider Justin Verlander. If he's still there in the 9th inning, he can continue to throw 100 MPH heat, along with a curve ball, split-finger pitch, slider, and change-up. He's been out there for hours. Bring in a relief pitcher, and he'll normally have a fastball and maybe one other pitch. Within 10 minutes, he'll be totally gassed. Doesn't that seem weird somehow? 

I agree with the legendary Nolan Ryan. Pitch counts should be irrelevant. When players are making the ridiculous amounts of money they currently do -- they're supposed to be in tip-top physical condition. If a starter's going good, forget the pitch count. Let him carry on. If a reliever is only good for one inning before needing to ice his arm down, then he's not in good enough shape. These days, we see middle relievers, set-up men, and closers. Evidently, some guys can only be effective pitchers from the 5th through 7th innings, other guys can only perform during the 8th, and the prima donna closers would likely spontaneously combust if they were ever called upon to actually, you know, pitch, before the 9th inning. Lest we forget, they have their own precious stats from Hades. I think they get a "save" if they enter the game, and don't allow all runners currently on base, the batter, the guy standing "on deck", and maybe the bat boy of the opposing club to score. Opposing batters can be hitting rockets all over the park, but if his team still wins -- he gets a save. It's just one more stupid stat that means nothing.

I take solace in two things. Cutting through the crap and always applying the KISS method is one.

The other is -- Al is older than I am. Hee hee.

Here's the formula for OPS that I promised. If you can sort this out, and make it easily understandable for the average baseball fan, then get your passport in order, because you have a trip to Oslo, Norway in your future. That's where they hand out the Nobel prizes. You will have definitely earned it.

The basic formula is

where OBP is on-base percentage and SLG is slugging average. These averages are defined

and

where:

• H = Hits
• BB = Base on balls
• HBP = Times hit by pitch
• AB = At bats
• SF = Sacrifice flies
• TB = Total bases

Although OBP and SLG have different denominators, it is possible to rewrite the expression for OPS using a common denominator. This expression is mathematically identical to the simple sum of OBP and SLG:



The next time you read a column by some sportswriter that refers to OPS, ask yourself just one question. Do you really think they have the slightest idea what they're talking about?






      

Eating crow.

Well, let's see. A few weeks back, I picked the New Jersey Devils to win the Stanley Cup. Now they're down 3-zip to the LA Kings, who have been on an unbelievable roll, with Game 4 coming up in LA. New Jersey storming back to win 4 in a row is theoretically possible, but so's winning the lotto. The fat lady's warming up. A #8 seed is going to win it? Where did these guys come from? Regardless, looks like I was wrong.

In my previous post, I predicted the Boston Celtics could never win a game in Miami. They just did. I was wrong. Can Miami go into Beantown, win Game 6, then come back home again to win Game 7 as well? The last 4 games those teams have played against each other have been "coin-flips", so who knows? Then again, I predicted all along that Miami would win the NBA championship this year, because Lebron would not be denied. I'll probably turn out to be wrong about that too.

I think I inherited it from my late father. It seemed like whoever he rooted for was going down. The man was somehow jinxed in that way. Back in the day, before remote controls were conceived, I WAS the remote control. Put it on Channel 4 boy. Switch it to 7 boy. Get me a beer boy.

Dad loved to watch boxing. Though I'm not positive, I think way back then it was called Gillette's Friday Night at the Fights. This was almost sacred in our house. A hallowed time frame. As a comparison -- you could combine the enthusiam of the most ardent Tiger Woods' fan with the adrenaline of a pumped-up NASCAR maniac on the last lap of the Daytona 500, pump him chock full of steroids, throw in a little fire and brimstone from a Baptist preacher on speed, and that's pretty much how my dad felt about boxing night. This was not a good time for a young boy to get out of line.

But it never failed. Faster than you could say left, right, left, whoever he rooted for always seemed to wind up getting knocked out. That was REALLY a good time to be quiet.

So, God rest his soul, me getting all my picks wrong is simply a matter of heredity. It's HIS fault. Just kidding. But you know what? Unlike most others that try to predict games, only to be proven wrong later -- I'll own it. No excuses. I was wrong.

Given my heritage and personal track record of always getting it bass-ackwards, there's only one thing to do.

I hereby predict the Detroit Tigers will NOT make the playoffs, let alone win the World Series.

So there. I've done my part.

Hey Deb. Many thanks for the Pat Summitt Harley shirt. Pretty cool. Catch up with ya down the road....

Tracking the NBA playoffs

With apologies to our late, great forefather Benjamin Franklin, besides death and taxes, maybe some things in sports are inevitable as well. Tiger Woods was bound to win another tournament sooner or later -- and so he did. Strike up the marching bands and send in the clowns.

But this is about the NBA.

The Oklahoma City -- San Antonio series features a youthful team with ridiculous talent, speed, and athleticism going up against the "old pros", who have been there, done that, rarely make mistakes, play smart, and likely have the wiliest head coach in the game. Both teams are formidable in their own way and it always seemed like whichever squad blinked first -- was going to lose. San Antonio blinked by losing Game 5 at home. That means the Thunder can close out the series in Game 6 back in Okieland, where they have been very dominant all year long, especially in the playoffs. They likely will. It's too bad in a way, because I dare say San Antonio was the sentimental favorite amongst the majority of NBA hoop fans without a home team in the hunt. How can you root against a guy like Tim Duncan?

Thing is, this might very well spell the end of an era in San Antonio. Their superstars are getting a little long in the tooth by NBA standards, and if Okla City can keep their team together while dealing with the salary cap, potential free agency, and add another piece or two along the way -- they could become the next dynasty. Betcha some people in Seattle are having second thoughts right about now about not building the former Supersonics a new arena, and the team leaving town.

Similar comparisons could be made to the Boston Celtics -- Miami Heat series. Boston plays hard-nosed, physical, up in your face basketball, and on any given night, they can beat anybody. But if San Antonio's getting old -- the Celtics, with the exception of their point guard, Rajon Rondo, are getting ancient. The end of their era is getting closer and closer. The Heat aren't as youthful as the Thunder, but rather seem to be in their "prime" right now. They have a couple of superstars named Lebron and D-Wade, and a pretty good supporting cast to boot. If they get Chris Bosh back from injury, they'll be just that much better. That series is tied 2-2, but Miami has home court advantage, and I just don't see the Celtics winning a game in South Beach.

It sure looks like it's going to be Miami and Okla City in the NBA Finals. With all due respect to the other teams, the older guys will likely get kicked to the curb by the current prime time players. Again, sometimes it's just inevitable.

Who will win? I've maintained all along that this is Lebron's year. The man's on a mission. Then again, Okla City will have home court advantage, where they seem unbeatable. Little Havana has to win at least one game in Dustbowlville to be crowned champs. Whether they can pull that off is a good question.

But here's a not so fearless prediction. Given those two teams, the NBA Finals would set an all-time record -- for dunks. Watching Celtic coach Doc Rivers match wits with Spurs coach Gregg Popovich would have been more cerebral, but if you're into slam dunks every which way, the Heat/Thunder series should be quite a spectacle.

 

The Detroit Grand Prix. Embarrassing

After a 4 year hiatus, the Indy cars finally returned to the Detroit area. It was embarrassing.

Once upon a time, the Formula 1 series, far and away the most technologically advanced racing cars on the planet, came to the Motor City. They didn't tolerate it for very long. Low attendance, bad neighborhood, bad track, poor exposure, and other things drove them away. Think what you will of them, but greener pastures are greener pastures.

Then the Indy cars tried to fill the void. They suffered the same maladies, and eventually bailed too.

Likely due to Roger Penske, with Detroit roots, a Midas touch when it comes to all things business, and a titan in the world of Indy car racing, the Indy boys and girls were back racing on Belle Isle again. Penske had invested some $7 million of his money to spruce everything up on that island. Others had contributed fair sums of money as well.

The owners and drivers all said the right things before the race. They were overjoyed at going back to Detroit, the "birthplace" of the automobile, and let's not forget Chevrolet recently jumped back into the series providing racing engines that are every bit as powerful and reliable, if not more so, than the Honda motors which had dominated the series in recent years.

What could be better than Penske, Indy cars, and Chevrolet coming together again in Detroit for a glorious race?

Many years ago, the event took place on the streets of downtown Detroit, which would paralyze civilian traffic for several days. It was a logistical nightmare. Then somebody came up with bright idea to move it to Belle Isle. Great plan.

Even on Belle Isle, the course was less than optimal. It was (and is) narrow, making it extremely difficult for cars to pass each other, and also bumpy. Again, the drivers were politically correct about it, and said they looked forward to a "challenging" track.

Yet they all seemed to overlook the obvious. Welcome to Michigan, racing boys and girls -- the undisputed KING of potholes. Michigan has more potholes than it does trees. Maybe even blades of grass in some urban areas. Just because people poured millions into beautifying Belle Isle prior to the race -- it should have came as no great surprise that the racetrack would develop potholes. And did it ever. Big ones. The long, gaping, ditch variety you've likely seen in your neighborhood. The race had to be halted for a couple hours while repair crews attempted to fix the damage. Hard to say what the owners and drivers were thinking about during that time, but chances are they weren't exactly positive thoughts as to coming back to race in the Detroit area again.

At that, they tried to "patch" the raceway with some sort of quick-drying concrete mix. Clean out the old rubble, pour the new stuff in, smooth it out, and hope for the best.

There was a better way. After all, the race marshall was none other than Ndahmukong Suh, of the Detroit Lions. How he gets these gigs, given his reputation, is beyond me, but it's Detroit -- so anything's possible.

Most of us have seen city or county crews trying to fix potholes here or there. A big truck comes along and stops, a guy jumps off the back and shovels some of the asphalt stuff into the holes, and the truck moves on. They count on the cars and trucks running over it to pack it down. A couple weeks later it's like it never happened. It's a joke and a waste of time and taxpayers money. If you're going to do it -- at least do it right -- right?

That's where Suh could have came in handy. Forget the concrete and the guys out their with their trowels smoothing it out. Asphalt's a lot cheaper and quicker. All they needed to do was spread some of that same stuff our local boys in the orange trucks do on our roads, and get Suh back into his stomping mode. If he jumped up and down on it a couple times -- it would be as packed as it's ever going to get. Let's go racing.

But no matter how embarrassing that may have been on the Belle Isle racecourse, it still has it's advantages over the former course in the streets of downtown Detroit. These days, they might be lucky if they made it through the race without a few bullet holes in their vehicles, or even being car-jacked somewhere along the way.

Dress it up however you want, but Motown ain't what it used to be. More like Hotown, Godown, and as you're travelling through, don't Slowdown.

Politically incorrect about ladies' softball

Though it doesn't get anywhere near the national attention and publicity of certain other sports in America, ladies' fast-pitch softball is pretty cool to watch. Their version of the college "World Series" in going on right now, and is being televised by an ESPN station. To steal a line from Michael Jordan, who was talking about an ill-fated venture into another sport at the time -- "These guys are good".

Indeed they are. All these girls are highly proficient at fielding and throwing the ball. When it comes to speed on the base paths, they zoom around like the "road-runner" from cartoons of yore. They're FAST.

Sure, most fast pitch softball games aren't exactly "slug-fests", because elite pitchers in that game dominate much more so than their counterparts in regular (mens') baseball. Yet like baseball, at the highest levels, the hitters are really good too. Sometimes a lot of runs will get scored.

Yes, a softball is a considerably larger target than a baseball to hit, but let's not forget the distance from the pitcher's mound to home plate is a lot closer, and softball hurlers have a variety of pitches and speeds that can rival most baseball pitchers. It's been said that a softball thrown at 70 MPH from 43 feet away (the college distance) is like trying to hit a major league fastball in the high 90's. From what I've seen, I think that's underestimated. The hitters in the girls' game have to be even quicker with their reflexes and bats. Check it out and decide for yourself.

So here's to the ladies' college World Series of softball. You are all incredibly talented and deserve much more praise and attention than you get. The end.

Well, not quite. This is where I turn off the main drag and venture down a seldom used, and potentially scary path. Yea, though I walk through the valley of political incorrectness, I shall fear no evil -- because sometimes it just is what it is.

Despite all the aforementioned skills -- I have a problem watching these games. To be blunt -- they just won't shut up.

Throughout the entire game, all the girls on both teams, particularly in the dugouts, act like it's a combination between a pep rally and cheerleader tryouts. On and on they'll go. The chatter never stops. Nuclear powered vocal cords. They'll chant and sing songs normally associated with 8 year olds at a sleep-over, camp-out, or maybe little league teams. These girls can vote, drive a car, serve in the military, and even bear children. So when they're playing softball at the highest collegiate level -- why do they revert back to acting like they're in the 3rd grade again? What's up with THAT?

Make it mandatory that they chew gum or tobacco like baseball players. Or spit sunflower seeds. Better yet, put a little "pinch" of snuff between their cheeks and gums, and this problem would be solved. Let them spit THAT in the dugouts or on the field. If all else fails, muzzle them. Tase them. Do something -- anything --  to keep them from flapping their gums while just spewing childish nonsense.

It's a fascinating game played by highly skilled athletes.

I just wish they'd act their age.

Roger Clemens -- with a twist

As most sports fans know, Roger Clemens has been on trial -- again. The trial is going on 2 months, some jurors have been dismissed for falling asleep, and no end appears to be in sight any time soon.

It's not about whether he took steroids, human growth hormone, or other "performance enhancing drugs", but rather whether he lied to Congress about this some 8 years ago. This is old news. Being charged with lying to Congress, who many think have historically been a pack of liars themselves, likely seems ludicrous to some. Yet they plow away with their prosecutors, spending untold millions of our tax dollars in the process. You'd likely agree that Congress wasting our hard earned money on some ridiculous projects is most definitely old news. But it is what it is.

When you get right down to it, the whole case is pretty simple. Brian McNamee, the "witness for the prosecution" and Clemens' former "trainer", has testified under oath that he injected Clemens a few times with PEDs. These alleged occasions happened either during Clinton's presidency, or George Jr.'s first term -- in other words -- quite a while back.

Clemens testified in front of Congress in 2004 that it never happened. Obviously, our legislators, in their infinite wisdom, think he lied -- hence the current charges and trial.

That's it.

All the other junk that's gone on in that courtroom is nothing but fluff -- distractions that are irrelevant.

So it all boils down to two things the jurors have to consider.

First, who do they want to believe? McNamee or Clemens?

And second, even if they believe McNamee, which would mean Clemens "used", do they really want to convict him for lying to other liars about it? Almost a decade later, does it really matter? Is it worth all this time and expense, or will the jurors feel insulted for having been dragged through this ordeal?

Hard to say, but here's a twist nobody else has mentioned yet.

Obviously, either Clemens, under oath before Congress way back when, or McNamee, recently under oath in federal court -- lied. One of them is guilty of perjury.

If Clemens is found guilty, the judge will sentence him to what the court deems appropriate. McNamee will carry on doing whatever he does these days.

But what if Clemens is acquitted on all charges? That would mean the jury deemed him to be truthful. Simple logic would dictate that makes McNamee guilty of perjury. Like flipping a coin, there has to be a winner and also a loser. It can't be both ways.

If Clemens wins, shouldn't McNamee be immediately arrested and tried for perjury himself?  It would certainly be fodder for the reporters for the next several months, and the feds could blow another few million bucks of our tax money on silliness.

On second thought......

Nevermind, and please don't forward this to your local congressperson.

They might get together and actually do it.

The Scripps National Spelling Bee

Before you say I'm out of bounds on this topic because it has nothing to do with sports, I will merely state the Finals were televised by ESPN's flagship station. Obviously the network executives think it qualifies as such, and probably countless millions the world over watched the contest. So there. Onward.

To likely no one's great surprise, a 14 year old girl named Snigdha Nandipati, of Indian (the Asian variety) heritage, came out on top. I'm not so good at spelling and it will be a minor miracle if I get through this article without screwing something up. Hope I got her name right.

Can Indian kids spell? Are you kidding? Can Kenyans run marathons? Can the Chinese play ping-pong? Is Usain Bolt fast? Does Charles Barkley have a classic golf swing? Hmmm. Nah, forget that last one.

At any rate, this is the 10 time in the last 14 years a kid of Indian heritage has won the spelling bee. It would seem that while American children are busy texting, tweeting, face-booking, playing video games, and dreaming of being the next superstar in various sports -- the Indian children are studying. Kids devoting hours everyday to their passion to learn. Imagine that.

Snigdha speaks fluent Teluga, which is a language in southeastern India, and aspires to someday possibly become a neurosurgeon. As smart as that little girl is, she'll likely get a full ride scholarship through college and maybe even med school, right here in the USA. I wonder if when she's finely ready to wield the scalpel on people's heads and make the big bucks, if she'll pull a Lebron and "take her talents" elsewhere, like in back to India. Could happen.

Snigdha's winning word was "guetapens", which is some sort of snare or trap, maybe like what the Nashville Predators did to the Detroit Red Wings in the playoffs. The runner-up lost out by misspelling the word "schwarmerei", which is unbridled enthusiasm -- kinda like some sports beat reporters when it comes to the team they're covering. Betcha any of them could have spelled "Kool-Aid".

Yet this spelling bee has gotten out of control. Every contestant on every word drags it on way too long. The person presenting the words clearly enunciates it, gives a definition, and says the word again. That should be good enough. But no, the kids want to know whether it's a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, etc. Then they ask from which language the word was derived. Then they want to hear the whole thing again. Even Snigdha said she already knew how to spell the winning word when it was first presented, but asked all the questions anyway. If I was a judge I'd put an end to this nonsense. Here's what I'd say: "I just clearly pronounced the word, gave you a definition, and pronounced it again. Now S-P-E-L-L the damn thing. Don't make me come up there on stage and cuff you up the side of your nerdy egghead. Let's GO".

That might spice it up a tad. And why not throw a little controversy into the whole thing? Every other sport seems to have it in one way or the other. When it gets down to the end where the kids are having to spell ridiculously hard words that most of us have never even heard of -- why not throw in a random blooper?  After a word like "schwarmerei", ask the next kid to spell "cat", a domestic feline animal that purrs and goes potty in a litter box. Sure it would be unfair, but it would also be hilarious. The crowd in attendance would gasp, millions the world over would think the "fix" was in, scribes and talking heads would go berserk, and whoever put the word "cat" into the contest might wind up testifying before a few Senators on Capitol Hill.

Maybe it could even be arranged to have a few kids and/or their families get into the "octagon" for some cage grudge matches. A round-robin tournament with millions of cha-chings at $49.95 on pay-per-view. The possibilities are endless. After all, it's the American way.

Or maybe someday a lot of bright kids will stop pressing buttons, or thinking they're going to be the next Lebron James or Tom Brady. For 99.99999% of them, it ain't gonna happen. So many of them fall into the "guetapens" -- the trap. A dream future that has no chance of ever becoming reality.

They might even consider studying as hard as the contestants on the Scripps Spelling Bee do. Imagine that.

Chances are all those kids will go far in their various fields of endeavor.