Numbers & Intangibles

In the spring of 2003, the world was introduced to a movement that had been budding within baseball for several years. Michael Lewis, author of The Blind Side, wrote a baseball book that year titled Moneyball. The book followed the career of Billy Beane, general manager of the Oakland Athletics, who had helped usher in the use of statistical analysis to guide baseball decisions. For more than 100 years, the eyes of baseball scouts had served as the primary tool for determining a ballplayer’s value. But as a new century dawned, Beane and other front-office executives determined that statistics could tell you more, in many cases, than any set of eyes ever could.

Nearly seven years after Moneyball was published, statistical analysis has overtaken baseball. There are number-crunchers and computer experts in every team’s offices, and there are highly educated programmers constantly improving the matrixes used to analyze baseball skills. The newest innovation: Computer programs that can break down defensive skills, to tell you how quickly a player gets to a ball in the field, how often runners advance on that player’s arm, and how well that player performs compared to another player of average skills. This new focus on defensive numbers has led some poor defenders, such as Johnny Damon and Jermaine Dye, to find themselves without a team just two weeks before spring training begins.

Computer-generated numbers rule the game now, and the naysayers such as ESPN analyst Joe Morgan find their voices drowned out by the drumbeat of keyboard taps and mouse clicks. Since so many Americans are captivated by fantasy baseball – which is also guided by numbers – there is little argument from fans against this Moneyball revolution. Many of those fans will likely flock to movie theaters if the movie version of this book is ever released (Brad Pitt has signed on, and the script is undergoing revision).

As convincing as the numbers are, there are still moments when they can’t tell us the whole story. The poster child for this point has long been Derek Jeter, the Yankees shortstop and captain. Sports Illustrated did not select Jeter as its ’09 Sportsman of the Year solely because the guy hit .334 last year and scored 107 runs. The people who write about Derek Jeter often talk about the intangibles attached to his game. They talk about his ability to position himself in the right place for a cutoff throw, or his penchant for hitting a pitch toward right field when he’s having trouble getting around on a hard fastball. They tell you about his quiet leadership on and off the field, from the pat on the back he’ll give to a nervous pitcher during a touch inning to the kind words he often has for both teammates and opponents. They rave about Jeter’s model behavior, the absence of any link between him and performance-enhancing drugs, and the close relationship he has with his parents.

These are characteristics that statistics just can’t reveal, some will argue. They say you can’t judge a player completely based on the numbers because baseball – like life – always demands more from us than any math computation can contain.

I was thinking about this debate earlier today, when I was outside clearing the white stuff from my driveway. Humility aside for a second, I am a tremendous snow- shoveler. The statistics could tell you this – my shoveling average (amount of snow per over-the-shoulder toss) is strong, as is my overall shoveling time. My VORS (Value Over Replacement Shoveler) is top-of-the-line, and the accuracy of my tosses is spot-on. So yes, the numbers support my dominance as a shoveler. But do they tell the whole story?

Do the statistics tell you that I broaden my shoveling beyond the driveway and into the street, so that all the parking spots we might need are completely free of snow? Do they reveal the fact that I wait until the plows have gone by, so that we don’t get another sheet of snow in front of the driveway after I’m done? Do the numbers speak to the friendly conversations I have with neighbors, to keep their spirits high when their lower backs begin moaning? Do they tell you how free I am from performance-enhancing products such as snow blowers and snow plows?

No, they don’t. You can’t fully appreciate my shoveling prowess unless you watch with your own eyes. And since no one does that, I’m left to reflect on my own abilities as I sip some hot chocolate and marvel over the job well-done.

Moneyball is real and here to stay. There’s no debating that. But please, don’t forget to watch for the intangibles. They are everywhere, from shortstops to shovelers.