Sunday, September 16, 2012

From the Angels and the Royals, The Book snatches defeat from the jaws of victory, Bill Clinton's arithmetic strikes again in baseball

Close to a laugh as you'll find from Mr. Gibson
who must be laughing now at the antics
of the Angels and Royals brain trust

Let’s talk baseball this Sunday morning.

It’s not quite time for hot stove talk, though after our sauna summer the morning has just enough chill to warrant it.

Last night Angels’ manager Mike Scioscia, managed himself out of a crucial victory. Friday night Ned Yost managed himself out of a meaningless victory. And both snatched defeat from the jaws of victory for the same reason.

The Book.

Baseball is played more by The Book than any human endeavor except, perhaps, running for president. And in baseball, The Book of the age of specialization says a starting pitcher works between five and seven innings, an eighth inning specialist pitches the eighth inning and a closer closes.

No doubt a crafty Sabermagician can produce a graph showing us why this is the least risky course of action. You have to respect the power of numbers, or, as Bill Clinton prefers, arithmetic.

But baseball players aren’t machines, so sometimes a manager has to use his head. Slavish adherence to the low risk option might make you wealthy, might win you games, but isn’t much fun. And sometimes it is just plain wrong, as the numbers also show.

Add to The Book, the prevailing notion in modern baseball that unless the pitcher is Justin Verlander, he’s delicate as a flower. He’s an orchid out there on the mound, who must be cared for with utmost tenderness. He must not be exposed to excessive heat, unnecessary baserunning, dangerous use of a baseball bat, the seventh, eighth or ninth innings, or, worst of all, defeat.

The thunder you just heard was Bob Gibson laughing. Gibson's leg was broken by a line drive off the bat of Roberto Clemente on July 15, 1967. He walked the next hitter, retired the next and dropped to the ground after throwing a ball on a three-two pitch to the third hitter.

OK, Friday night gets a bit complicated. Try to follow baseball logic here as the home manager Yost tries to follow The Book.

It’s the eighth inning of a see-saw battle. The Royals are ahead seven runs to five. Yost goes to the mound and takes the ball away from Aaron Crow who has induced a ground out, given up a single through the middle and struck out Alberto Callaspo. Yost gives the ball to Tim Collins because the numbers in The Book say to. You see, the switch-hitting pinch hitter, Kendrys Morales, the arithmetic says, hits less right-handed than left-handed. Rule: In such a situation, the manager must replace the right-handed pitcher with a left-handed pitcher to turn the switch-hitter around to his weaker side.

Morales promptly deposited this wise decision over the centerfield fence. A couple of singles, a hit batsman and a walk later, the home nine were losers.

Last night was much less complicated. In fact, what happened was shockingly simple.

Mike Scioscia, having learned nothing from watching the Friday night giveaway, turned to the same page in The Book. He watched Zack Greinke throttle the Kansas City club for eight innings then, courageously and against The Book, sent his fragile young charge back out for the ninth with plenty left in the tank and a 20-mile-per-hour difference between his fastest and his slowest pitches.

But then, with one out and one on, he lost faith in himself and in Greinke and went to The Book. Greinke had not yet reached the showers when the Lost Angel’s specialist coughed up the lead on four pitches. The culprit was, once again, the centerfield fence, followed by the pesky left field foul pole.

Denny Matthews pointed this out on radio as the fireworks began to arch over the stadium. When you’re a Ford C. Frick Award winner, you can say such things on the air. And Ryan Lefebvre, his sidekick who is also growing some brass, added his two-bits about coddling pitchers. They were right, and a lot of old schoolers listening to their radios were nodding their heads in silent agreement.


Baseball card image courtesy:

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