Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day One Hundred Fifty-Five: David Price, Tampa Bay Rays
Almost every time I check out the baseball section of my newspaper or flip through an on-line news site, I find more debates over who should win the American League’s Cy Young Award this season. The award is supposed to go to the league’s best pitcher. But in 2010, that’s not an easy thing to determine.
Is the best pitcher the man who has won the most games? If so, then New York Yankee CC Sabathia holds that honor right now. Or should the award go to the man who has given up the fewest runs and struck out the most batters? If so, then hard-luck Seattle Mariners ace Felix Hernandez gets the trophy in 2010. It’s an odd comparison, as Sabathia has 20 wins, 189 strikeouts and a 3.26 earned-run average, while Hernandez has just 12 wins but has struck out 227 batters while compiling a league-best 2.31 ERA.
Many baseball writers and fans are arguing that Hernandez is simply the best pitcher this year, and to deny him the trophy is to deny a very obvious fact. It’s not Hernandez’s fault that he has a weak offense to support him, the argument goes. But others disagree, deferring instead to the long tradition of Cy Young winners posting high win totals. Most of the pitching awards throughout baseball history have gone to men who racked up the W’s. Why, this opposing side counters, should that tradition change now?
It’s a curious debate. In the old days, it was very easy to see who the best starting pitchers were, because they always pitched complete games. According to Baseball-reference.com, there have been 147 winners of 30 or more games in the history of baseball. However, all but 21 of those men won 30 or more in the 19th century. Of the few 30-game winners in the 20th century, only three did so after 1930, and only one surpassed 30 wins after 1934.
That takes us to the 20-game winners, who are also becoming a vanishing breed. Through the 1980s, it was very common to see several 20-game winners in each league every season. But as relief specialists and pitch counts have become de rigeur, starting pitchers rarely have the chance to finish their own job. In two of the past four years, no pitcher has won 20 games at all. This season, three pitchers have already won 20, but no one will get any higher than 22 this year.
So that brings us back to the Cy Young race. Do we throw up our hands and just forget about the number of wins a pitcher has in the 21st century, or do we still count those victories as significant when measuring a hurler’s Cy Young credentials? My thoughts are this: We take the Grammy route.
Every year, the Grammy Awards nominate a very interesting bunch of artists for Album of the Year. Some of the nominees are there because they’ve pushed the envelope, taken some risks and given music a new look (such as Amy Winehouse in 2008, Radiohead in 2009, or Lady Gaga in 2010). Other nominees are on the list because their album was enormously popular (Kanye West in ‘08, Coldplay in ’09, and The Black Eyed Peas in ’10). This diversity among the nominees creates a fascinating debate and keeps a number of viewers awake watching an awards show until after 11 on a Sunday night in winter. And then, when the victor is announced, mouths fall agape “The winner is .. Herbie Hancock! … Robert Plant and Alison Krauss! … Taylor Swift!”
The Grammy people love compromise picks, and these selections have all the spice and flavor of a rice cake. The envelope-pushers inevitably become popular anyway, and the top-sellers remain top-selling. But clearly, one of them should have won the award, right? In the realm of music, safe picks make no sense.
But in terms of pitching, there’s a lot to be said for following the Grammy road. Because as important as it is to honor a great season, I just cannot hand over a best-pitcher trophy to a guy with 12 wins. That’s an offense to the labor of Charlie “Old Hoss” Radbourn, who chalked up a record 59 wins in 1884. Or even to Denny McLain, our last 30-game winner, who tallied 31 victories in 1968. Baseball is about tradition, and winning games is something pitchers have always celebrated. That’s why the starters always head into the clubhouse when a reliever has blown the lead for them. On the other hand, though, it is understandable that a man with 20 wins who gives up a whole run more than the league leader should not win the Cy Young trophy. He has, of course, benefited from more luck than the average pitcher.
So we look in between the Sabathias and the Hernandez’s. And that’s where we find David Price. The Tampa Bay Rays left-hander, in just his second full season, has been electric all season long. Price has an 18-6 record, a 2.84 ERA, and 179 strikeouts. What’s more, he has given up more than five runs in a start just once all season. Last night, as Price outdueled Sabathia for a Rays victory at Yankee Stadium, he put a final stamp on his claim to the award. He may lack Sabathia’s wins, but he’s got plenty. And while he’s a little short of Hernandez’s K and ERA numbers, he’s more than holding his own. This year in the American League, Price is right for Cy Young honors.
The 20-game winner might be fading out of view, and this era of WHIPs and WARs and K-to-BB ratios has so many fans crunching more numbers than they ever imagined they’d see next to a ballplayer’s name. But there’s no need to go nuts with the statistics when looking for your Cy Young. Just uncover this year’s Alison Krauss. It makes for a lousy Grammy pick, but it works just fine in baseball.
Showing posts with label CC Sabathia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CC Sabathia. Show all posts
Friday, September 24, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Moving Day (One Sixty-Two: Day 100)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day One Hundred: Jake Westbrook, St. Louis Cardinals
For Major League Baseball, July 31st leaves some clubhouses looking like college dormitories in late August: suitcases strewn about, boxes stacked atop boxes, and garment bags flung over shoulders. This final day of July brings with it baseball’s trading deadline, the last day in which players can be shipped from one team to another without having to pass through waivers.
Almost everyone who is traded on this day is part of a deal that unfolds as follows: A pennant contender acquires an established veteran from a struggling team in exchange for younger prospects who will try and help the sub-.500 team return to prominence in the years ahead. In an ideal world, this kind of trade works out well for both teams, such as the deal two years ago that sent CC Sabathia from the Cleveland Indians to the Milwaukee Brewers. While Sabathia led the Brewers to the playoffs before bolting to the Yankees via free agency in the winter, Cleveland received a young slugger named Matt LaPorta who is now showing signs of excellence as the Indians’ starting first baseman. Unfortunately, it seems all too common these days that the playoff contender gets even better while the losing team ends up even worse than it was before. In 2003, when the Pittsburgh Pirates traded third baseman Aramis Ramirez to the Chicago Cubs, the slugging Ramirez led Chicago deep into the ’03 playoffs and remains the team’s starter seven years later, while the Pirates received prospects who had no impact on the big-league team. Baseball’s economics today tend to favor teams with more cash to spend, so the smaller-market teams often end up accepting less than the value of the player they’re trading in order to unload salary and save money.
However it all works out for these teams down the line, it remains true that today is Moving Day for dozens of young men. Starting pitcher Jake Westbrook, for instance, learned today that he must change his working address from Cleveland to St. Louis. It happens quickly, and ballplayers are expected to adjust on the fly. Of course, in a profession where the minimum salary is $400,000, there are some cushions here to the whole moving thing. Still, I try to think of myself in their shoes, and it’s a bit unnerving. I imagine being told, in late February, that I’ve been traded to another school in exchange for a first-year teacher and some SMART Boards. How quickly could I pack, say goodbye, and find my way to the new school? Which classes would I be asked to teach, and what would my schedule be? How would I bond with my colleagues, administrators and students? Would I be equally effective at this new place of work?
It’s an exciting day in baseball, but not necessarily an easy one for the ballplayers who are changing jobs. Those dorms can be overwhelming to a newcomer, and it’s hard sometimes to navigate your way through all the newness.
Day One Hundred: Jake Westbrook, St. Louis Cardinals
For Major League Baseball, July 31st leaves some clubhouses looking like college dormitories in late August: suitcases strewn about, boxes stacked atop boxes, and garment bags flung over shoulders. This final day of July brings with it baseball’s trading deadline, the last day in which players can be shipped from one team to another without having to pass through waivers.
Almost everyone who is traded on this day is part of a deal that unfolds as follows: A pennant contender acquires an established veteran from a struggling team in exchange for younger prospects who will try and help the sub-.500 team return to prominence in the years ahead. In an ideal world, this kind of trade works out well for both teams, such as the deal two years ago that sent CC Sabathia from the Cleveland Indians to the Milwaukee Brewers. While Sabathia led the Brewers to the playoffs before bolting to the Yankees via free agency in the winter, Cleveland received a young slugger named Matt LaPorta who is now showing signs of excellence as the Indians’ starting first baseman. Unfortunately, it seems all too common these days that the playoff contender gets even better while the losing team ends up even worse than it was before. In 2003, when the Pittsburgh Pirates traded third baseman Aramis Ramirez to the Chicago Cubs, the slugging Ramirez led Chicago deep into the ’03 playoffs and remains the team’s starter seven years later, while the Pirates received prospects who had no impact on the big-league team. Baseball’s economics today tend to favor teams with more cash to spend, so the smaller-market teams often end up accepting less than the value of the player they’re trading in order to unload salary and save money.
However it all works out for these teams down the line, it remains true that today is Moving Day for dozens of young men. Starting pitcher Jake Westbrook, for instance, learned today that he must change his working address from Cleveland to St. Louis. It happens quickly, and ballplayers are expected to adjust on the fly. Of course, in a profession where the minimum salary is $400,000, there are some cushions here to the whole moving thing. Still, I try to think of myself in their shoes, and it’s a bit unnerving. I imagine being told, in late February, that I’ve been traded to another school in exchange for a first-year teacher and some SMART Boards. How quickly could I pack, say goodbye, and find my way to the new school? Which classes would I be asked to teach, and what would my schedule be? How would I bond with my colleagues, administrators and students? Would I be equally effective at this new place of work?
It’s an exciting day in baseball, but not necessarily an easy one for the ballplayers who are changing jobs. Those dorms can be overwhelming to a newcomer, and it’s hard sometimes to navigate your way through all the newness.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Shouldering the Load (One Sixty-Two: Day 64)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day Sixty-Four: Yovani Gallardo, Milwaukee Brewers
With just one week to go before he can sign as an NBA free agent, LeBron James is most definitely weighing his options. When you find yourself carrying your team, it’s hard to feel great about your championship options. You start to wonder what it would be like to play with another franchise.
For the past seven years, James has been the dominant player on the Cleveland Cavaliers, and he has lacked the caliber of supporting players enjoyed by Kobe Bryant of the champion Los Angeles Lakers. Of course, whatever James has had in Cleveland is far better than what he’d have with the New York Knicks next year. But, after five straight playoff disappointments, James just might feel as though he needs a change.
For more than five years now, the Milwaukee Brewers have danced on the periphery of baseball playoff contention. Milwaukee has always had the hitters; it’s the pitching that has slowed them down each year. In 2008, the Brewers made the daring move of trading for starting pitcher CC Sabathia during the summer playoff race. The addition of this front-line starter was a difference-maker, and Milwaukee made its first playoff appearance in 26 years.
In 2010, the great Brewers hitters are still in that lineup – Ryan Braun, Prince Fielder, Rickie Weeks, Corey Hart, and others. However, the pitching is absolutely pitiful – except for one man. And that’s just not enough.
Yovani Gallardo, a 24-year-old flame-thrower, has started 16 games, won seven of them, and compiled a 2.36 earned-run average to go with 115 strikeouts. These are superb, All-Star numbers. But to show you how far removed Gallardo’s performance is from the rest of his team’s, check this out: Every other Brewers starter has yielded at least twice as many runs per nine innings as Gallardo. No Brewers starter has even half as many strikeouts as this man. The Brewers have two complete games and two shutouts from their starting rotation – both coming from Gallardo.
This is simply not enough. Starting pitchers get the ball once every five days. The way Gallardo is throwing, he’s as good a bet as any to win with that lineup. But there are four other games in between his starts. As a team, the Brewers are giving up five runs per nine innings. No one in the National League scores as many runs as Milwaukee; and yet, even this offense can’t score as many runs as the pitching is giving away for free. This is why the team is 32-40 nearly halfway through the season.
Sadly, it doesn’t look like a championship year for the Brew Crew. As for Gallardo, he’s not yet eligible for free agency. But when that time comes, you have to wonder if he’ll be willing to stay around Wisconsin if there are no other decent pitchers around him. The Brewers have time to re-tool; LeBron would surely advise them to get started.
Day Sixty-Four: Yovani Gallardo, Milwaukee Brewers
With just one week to go before he can sign as an NBA free agent, LeBron James is most definitely weighing his options. When you find yourself carrying your team, it’s hard to feel great about your championship options. You start to wonder what it would be like to play with another franchise.
For the past seven years, James has been the dominant player on the Cleveland Cavaliers, and he has lacked the caliber of supporting players enjoyed by Kobe Bryant of the champion Los Angeles Lakers. Of course, whatever James has had in Cleveland is far better than what he’d have with the New York Knicks next year. But, after five straight playoff disappointments, James just might feel as though he needs a change.
For more than five years now, the Milwaukee Brewers have danced on the periphery of baseball playoff contention. Milwaukee has always had the hitters; it’s the pitching that has slowed them down each year. In 2008, the Brewers made the daring move of trading for starting pitcher CC Sabathia during the summer playoff race. The addition of this front-line starter was a difference-maker, and Milwaukee made its first playoff appearance in 26 years.
In 2010, the great Brewers hitters are still in that lineup – Ryan Braun, Prince Fielder, Rickie Weeks, Corey Hart, and others. However, the pitching is absolutely pitiful – except for one man. And that’s just not enough.
Yovani Gallardo, a 24-year-old flame-thrower, has started 16 games, won seven of them, and compiled a 2.36 earned-run average to go with 115 strikeouts. These are superb, All-Star numbers. But to show you how far removed Gallardo’s performance is from the rest of his team’s, check this out: Every other Brewers starter has yielded at least twice as many runs per nine innings as Gallardo. No Brewers starter has even half as many strikeouts as this man. The Brewers have two complete games and two shutouts from their starting rotation – both coming from Gallardo.
This is simply not enough. Starting pitchers get the ball once every five days. The way Gallardo is throwing, he’s as good a bet as any to win with that lineup. But there are four other games in between his starts. As a team, the Brewers are giving up five runs per nine innings. No one in the National League scores as many runs as Milwaukee; and yet, even this offense can’t score as many runs as the pitching is giving away for free. This is why the team is 32-40 nearly halfway through the season.
Sadly, it doesn’t look like a championship year for the Brew Crew. As for Gallardo, he’s not yet eligible for free agency. But when that time comes, you have to wonder if he’ll be willing to stay around Wisconsin if there are no other decent pitchers around him. The Brewers have time to re-tool; LeBron would surely advise them to get started.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Sammy Sou-sa
Throughout their lives, my mother’s parents shared a deep love for baseball with my brother and me. Warm, compassionate grandparents, they often expressed their love to us through animated conversations about the Yankees, Mets, or our own Little League and high school teams. One of the most enjoyable aspects of these baseball talks was my grandparents’ incredible ability to destroy the pronunciation of players’ names. This side of Babe Ruth, there wasn’t a player whose name they didn’t butcher.
That new outfielder the Yankees had just signed from Japan? Mat-soon-i. The home-run-hitting outfielder for the Cubs? Sammy Sou-sa. The clutch lefty pitcher in pinstripes? Penn-itte.
My brother and I would joke good-naturedly with my grandparents about this, and they’d laugh along with us. I wondered to myself whether these mispronunciations were due more to their education level (one had graduated from high school, while the other had left high school before earning a diploma), or whether it was due more to geography and ethnicity (a combination of Irish-German-English descent placed on the North Shore of Staten Island – a place where you’d hear many a native ask for earl and vinegar in a restaurant, and where you’d hear them say the gas was cheaper in Joisey). When I heard them say the words “Derek Jeey-ta,” I wondered whether this mispronunciation was due to a real deficiency in literacy or to a simple combination of genetics and learned behavior. Whatever the reason, I felt sure that my brother and I – writers both – would not have such struggles.
My grandparents have both passed away in recent years, leaving us with just memories of hearing about “Joe Gir-al-di” or “Jorge Po-san-a.” Until …
My mother. She was talking to me the other day on the phone. She wanted to know if I thought the Yankees would trade for that Cleveland pitcher.
“Which one, Mom?”
“Sa-na-thee-a.”
Silence.
“Mom, do you mean C.C. Sa-bath-i-a?”
“Yes, him.”
More silence.
“Mom, you’ve inherited it.”
“What?”
“The name gene.”
She is almost 62, and I see now that she is well on her way. My mom is fast becoming a major-leaguer at mispronouncing names. We shared a laugh over this realization, and then moved on to other things. But as I hung up the phone, I thought about it some more, and started to get nervous.
When will I start doing it?
I pore over the names in box scores, and say them over in my head. “Fukudome. Pierzynski. Francoeur. Gallardo.” I will not succumb, I say. Genetics or not, I can stave off this grammatical glitch.
From their lofty perch, my grandparents smile. “Just you wait,” they surely say. Just you wait.
That new outfielder the Yankees had just signed from Japan? Mat-soon-i. The home-run-hitting outfielder for the Cubs? Sammy Sou-sa. The clutch lefty pitcher in pinstripes? Penn-itte.
My brother and I would joke good-naturedly with my grandparents about this, and they’d laugh along with us. I wondered to myself whether these mispronunciations were due more to their education level (one had graduated from high school, while the other had left high school before earning a diploma), or whether it was due more to geography and ethnicity (a combination of Irish-German-English descent placed on the North Shore of Staten Island – a place where you’d hear many a native ask for earl and vinegar in a restaurant, and where you’d hear them say the gas was cheaper in Joisey). When I heard them say the words “Derek Jeey-ta,” I wondered whether this mispronunciation was due to a real deficiency in literacy or to a simple combination of genetics and learned behavior. Whatever the reason, I felt sure that my brother and I – writers both – would not have such struggles.
My grandparents have both passed away in recent years, leaving us with just memories of hearing about “Joe Gir-al-di” or “Jorge Po-san-a.” Until …
My mother. She was talking to me the other day on the phone. She wanted to know if I thought the Yankees would trade for that Cleveland pitcher.
“Which one, Mom?”
“Sa-na-thee-a.”
Silence.
“Mom, do you mean C.C. Sa-bath-i-a?”
“Yes, him.”
More silence.
“Mom, you’ve inherited it.”
“What?”
“The name gene.”
She is almost 62, and I see now that she is well on her way. My mom is fast becoming a major-leaguer at mispronouncing names. We shared a laugh over this realization, and then moved on to other things. But as I hung up the phone, I thought about it some more, and started to get nervous.
When will I start doing it?
I pore over the names in box scores, and say them over in my head. “Fukudome. Pierzynski. Francoeur. Gallardo.” I will not succumb, I say. Genetics or not, I can stave off this grammatical glitch.
From their lofty perch, my grandparents smile. “Just you wait,” they surely say. Just you wait.
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