Baseball, like life, revolves around anticlimax. That in many ways is the beauty of it. I realize that's a hard thing to explain to someone who doesn't love baseball, no, more than hard, it's an impossible thing to explain because many people want sports to be more than life, they follow sports to jolt them out of the steady rhythms of the shriek of alarm clocks, the monotony of morning meetings, the rush to get our kids to soccer practice by 4 p.m. They want sports to be bigger than life. What's the point, otherwise? There is nothing in baseball as jarring as a blind-side hit, as jaw-dropping as a perfect alley-oop, as tense and heart-pounding as a breakaway.
And the hard thing to explain, the impossible thing, is that many of us love baseball not in spite of these failings but because of them.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Two Ways To Look At MVP Voting
Today at 1 p.m., I'll have a live baseball chat about whatever it is that people might want to talk about. But I suspect a large part of it will be some MVP talk. I've got to make my American League MVP choices today, and even though I have my list of 10 pretty well done, I'm going to take until the deadline before sending it in. This is the toughest vote I can remember for reasons I'll give you in a minute.
There were two MVP thoughts that I came across this week that have had some impact on my thoughts. One, I have hesitated to mention because it might come across wrong. But I will mention it. My colleague and friend Tom Verducci offered up his MVP picks this week, and perhaps his most controversial decision was to choose Boston's Jacoby Ellsbury as a provisional. That is to say, he picked Ellsbury if, and only if, the Red Sox make the playoffs. I don't see the MVP that way at all, as I've written, but Tom is certainly not the only writer who sees the MVP Award more as a power of narrative award than as an individual award
No, it was something else that Tom wrote that really interested me. Look:
There were two MVP thoughts that I came across this week that have had some impact on my thoughts. One, I have hesitated to mention because it might come across wrong. But I will mention it. My colleague and friend Tom Verducci offered up his MVP picks this week, and perhaps his most controversial decision was to choose Boston's Jacoby Ellsbury as a provisional. That is to say, he picked Ellsbury if, and only if, the Red Sox make the playoffs. I don't see the MVP that way at all, as I've written, but Tom is certainly not the only writer who sees the MVP Award more as a power of narrative award than as an individual award
No, it was something else that Tom wrote that really interested me. Look:
Monday, September 26, 2011
Awards and Muppets
So, over the weekend, I was named Best Sportswriter in the "Untitled Sports Media Awards Project" at the Blogs With Balls Conference. No matter how many times you read over the previous sentence, it probably will not make any sense so just go with it. I'm not a big awards guy, but it's always cool to win something, especially an award for best sportswriter on the Internet. I wrote a little acceptance speech, which was read by my colleague Richard Deitsch and went like this:
The Obvious MVP Choice
A political story: A few years ago, back when George Bush and Al Gore were still locked down in their post-election hanging-chad Florida tango, I saw something on television that surprised me. There was a politician, no idea his name, who stepped on camera and said something like this: "Look, this is an election for the President of the United States, and we should go to any and all extremes to make sure that we fulfill the people's bidding. If that means hand-counting every single vote in Florida, then we should do that. This is too important to allow political squabbling to interfere with what I believe is the most important aspect of our Democracy, the power of the people."
What made it surprising was that a Republican said that -- this was at the time when Republicans had already declared victory and Democrats were screaming about the unfairness of it all. Anyway, it said "Republican" below his name. I'm certainly no more above partisanship than anyone else, but at some point during that whole mess, I had just grown so tired of the repetitive predictability of it all, Democrats making their arguments that conveniently tilted toward Gore, Republicans making their arguments that conveniently tilted toward Bush, the screaming partisanship that wasn't at all surprising but was at least a little bit disappointing. Wasn't this bigger than partisanship? When I saw one person cross the aisle -- and I would have been just as surprised and happy if it had been a Democrat making an impassioned case for the country rather than for his or her party -- I felt just a little bit happy.
What made it surprising was that a Republican said that -- this was at the time when Republicans had already declared victory and Democrats were screaming about the unfairness of it all. Anyway, it said "Republican" below his name. I'm certainly no more above partisanship than anyone else, but at some point during that whole mess, I had just grown so tired of the repetitive predictability of it all, Democrats making their arguments that conveniently tilted toward Gore, Republicans making their arguments that conveniently tilted toward Bush, the screaming partisanship that wasn't at all surprising but was at least a little bit disappointing. Wasn't this bigger than partisanship? When I saw one person cross the aisle -- and I would have been just as surprised and happy if it had been a Democrat making an impassioned case for the country rather than for his or her party -- I felt just a little bit happy.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Moneyball The Movie
WARNING: I don't THINK there are any spoilers or plot giveaways here -- I suspect most of you know that Moneyball The Movie is about the 2002 Oakland A's and their attempt to win with new baseball knowledge -- but if you are the sort of person who likes to go into a movie with no idea what's coming, then you should know up front that I do talk about some specific scenes.
* * *
OAKLAND -- There's a fascinating scene in the movie "Moneyball" that I am quite sure is unlike anything that has ever appeared on screen, and in many ways encapsulates everything I think about the movie. In the scene, Billy Beane -- as played by Brad Pitt -- is desperate to make a deal. He calls in his assistant, and then he starts working the phones. He calls the Cleveland GM. He calls the New York GM. He calls the San Francisco GM. He's working the phones, working them, you can see the passion on his face, you can feel the tension in the room. Will the deal go through? Won't the deal go through. We don't know. The A's owner calls, and he isn't willing to give any extra money to help out Beane, so that creates even more suspense, more excitement, and in the giant theater where I watch the premiere you can actually hear the full house riding the wave. When Brad Pitt as Billy Beane pulls off the deal, he raises his arms in triumph, and the Oakland crowd cheers madly -- it sounds in the theater like the moment when Rocky knocked down Apollo for the very first time.
And thus five minutes of riveting movie time -- edited to make the action pop, written by two Academy Award winners and starring perhaps the world's most bankable movie star -- is spent reliving the historic moment when Oakland traded for Ricardo Rincon.
Yes. Ricardo Rincon.
* * *
OAKLAND -- There's a fascinating scene in the movie "Moneyball" that I am quite sure is unlike anything that has ever appeared on screen, and in many ways encapsulates everything I think about the movie. In the scene, Billy Beane -- as played by Brad Pitt -- is desperate to make a deal. He calls in his assistant, and then he starts working the phones. He calls the Cleveland GM. He calls the New York GM. He calls the San Francisco GM. He's working the phones, working them, you can see the passion on his face, you can feel the tension in the room. Will the deal go through? Won't the deal go through. We don't know. The A's owner calls, and he isn't willing to give any extra money to help out Beane, so that creates even more suspense, more excitement, and in the giant theater where I watch the premiere you can actually hear the full house riding the wave. When Brad Pitt as Billy Beane pulls off the deal, he raises his arms in triumph, and the Oakland crowd cheers madly -- it sounds in the theater like the moment when Rocky knocked down Apollo for the very first time.
And thus five minutes of riveting movie time -- edited to make the action pop, written by two Academy Award winners and starring perhaps the world's most bankable movie star -- is spent reliving the historic moment when Oakland traded for Ricardo Rincon.
Yes. Ricardo Rincon.
The Ballad of Bill James
OAKLAND -- Bill James bought a new sports coat for the occasion. It is a nice jacket, sensible design, the sort of thing college literature professors might wear, and it allows him to do exactly what he wants to do: Blend into the scene. He and his wife Susie fly into the Bay Area for the day. They stay at the La Quinta near the airport. They take the train into downtown Oakland. They walk through the huge crowd more or less without being noticed. Every now and again, they see a celebrity, and are happier for it. The absurdity of it all doesn't throw them much, not anymore.
Hollywood made a movie about sabermetrics. Yes. That word. Sabermetrics. Hollywood actually made a movie about the search for objective knowledge in the game of baseball. Well, of course, you could argue that Moneyball is really about an iconoclast named Billy Beane. You could argue that Moneyball is really about the Oakland A's attempt to win with less money than most teams. You could argue, perhaps most persuasively, that Moneyball is about Brad Pitt, who might be the only actor in the world with enough juice to get this sort of movie made in the first place.
Hollywood made a movie about sabermetrics. Yes. That word. Sabermetrics. Hollywood actually made a movie about the search for objective knowledge in the game of baseball. Well, of course, you could argue that Moneyball is really about an iconoclast named Billy Beane. You could argue that Moneyball is really about the Oakland A's attempt to win with less money than most teams. You could argue, perhaps most persuasively, that Moneyball is about Brad Pitt, who might be the only actor in the world with enough juice to get this sort of movie made in the first place.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Blatt
Time for a new JoeWord:
Blatt (v) The act of continuing to talk on the cell phone after the call has been dropped.
Example: "How long did I blatt before I finally realized that you were gone?"
Example: "I would have called you back like 10 minutes ago, but I kept on blatting."
Example: "I'll try to remember what I said, but I swear I'll never say it as well as when I was just blatting."
Why blatt? The "BL" comes from "blab." And the last three letters? Well, that should be obvious.
Blatt (v) The act of continuing to talk on the cell phone after the call has been dropped.
Example: "How long did I blatt before I finally realized that you were gone?"
Example: "I would have called you back like 10 minutes ago, but I kept on blatting."
Example: "I'll try to remember what I said, but I swear I'll never say it as well as when I was just blatting."
Why blatt? The "BL" comes from "blab." And the last three letters? Well, that should be obvious.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
The Illusion Of Pain
This will be about boxing, but let's start with a college football moment: I am writing a book about Joe Paterno, and so last week I was at the Penn State-Alabama game, a game that Alabama won convincingly and with relatively little trouble. There is little doubt in my mind that Alabama is much better than Penn State, but there was an interesting play early in the game. Penn State led 3-0, and Alabama had fourth down and a yard from its own territory. Nick Saban called for a fake punt, which Penn State was obviously expecting. The Nittany Lions swarmed the ball-carrier and celebrated wildly after seeming to stop him short of the first down. The Alabama players seemed dejected. It was a scene. But then while all that was going on one Alabama player, I'm not sure who, wandered over to the ball and and realized that it was spotted beyond the first-down marker. And -- I still smile thinking of this -- he sheepishly signaled "first down" toward his sideline. Alabama went on to score.
The point, though, is not the questionable call. I don't know if the officials marked it right or not; replays suggested that it was a generous spot, maybe even a magnanimous one, but hey, bad spots are a part of football. It might have been a bad spot on a Frank Gifford run that led to John Unitas' famous comeback drive in the 1958 NFL Championship Game that changed pro football forever. My point isn't the spot at all. My point is that after the play, the tackle, the celebration, the crew brought out the chains, stretched them out purposefully, and showed that it was indeed and inarguably a first down.
The point, though, is not the questionable call. I don't know if the officials marked it right or not; replays suggested that it was a generous spot, maybe even a magnanimous one, but hey, bad spots are a part of football. It might have been a bad spot on a Frank Gifford run that led to John Unitas' famous comeback drive in the 1958 NFL Championship Game that changed pro football forever. My point isn't the spot at all. My point is that after the play, the tackle, the celebration, the crew brought out the chains, stretched them out purposefully, and showed that it was indeed and inarguably a first down.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
A Moneyball Point
Just wanted to point out something you may or may not have noticed: Curtis Granderson is obviously a major MVP candidate in the American League. He might even be the front-runner. Whether or not he should be the MVP is not the point of discussion here -- we can talk about that in a couple of weeks.
No my point of discussion is simply this: Curtis Granderson is hitting .264 for the season.
No my point of discussion is simply this: Curtis Granderson is hitting .264 for the season.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
The Meaning Of 600 Saves
I'm going to start this with a simple fact that might make it sound like I'm picking at the great record of Mariano Rivera. I promise you: I am not. I think my admiration and respect for the Great Rivera is fairly well established. Heck, I wrote this thing.
But there's something else here. And so I'm going to give you a bit of trivia. Mariano Rivera just got his 600th save. It's a big an impressive-looking number. SIX HUNDRED. So now, ask yourself this: How many of those 600 regular season saves were at least two-inning saves?
Before I give you the answer -- do you have your guess yet? -- I should tell you that while Rivera will any day now break Trevor Hoffman's record for overall saves, he is not quite the record-holder for two-inning saves. That would be Rollie Fingers with 135.
The Top 5 looks like so:
1. Rollie Fingers, 135
2. Bruce Sutter, 130
3. Goose Gossage, 125
4. Dan Quisenberry, 120
5. Hoyt Wilhelm, 114
But there's something else here. And so I'm going to give you a bit of trivia. Mariano Rivera just got his 600th save. It's a big an impressive-looking number. SIX HUNDRED. So now, ask yourself this: How many of those 600 regular season saves were at least two-inning saves?
Before I give you the answer -- do you have your guess yet? -- I should tell you that while Rivera will any day now break Trevor Hoffman's record for overall saves, he is not quite the record-holder for two-inning saves. That would be Rollie Fingers with 135.
The Top 5 looks like so:
1. Rollie Fingers, 135
2. Bruce Sutter, 130
3. Goose Gossage, 125
4. Dan Quisenberry, 120
5. Hoyt Wilhelm, 114
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The Greatest Tennis Season Ever
We -- and by "we" I really mean "I" -- use the word "ever" a lot in sports. Best ever. Greatest ever. First time ever. It's a shortcut word, an easy way to navigate the tricky waters of time AND make an achievement sound really impressive. Someone out there is the best "Angry Birds" player ever. Someone has written the best iPad review ever. Every so often you will see someone credited for the best tweet ever.
Novak Djokovic is closing in on what most experts are calling the greatest tennis season ever. It has been one heck of a season, no question. He has won three of the four major championships -- the sixth man in the Open Era to do that, if I'm not mistaken. He has lost just two matches all year. And he has dominated in a particularly wonderful time in men's tennis, when Roger Federer (greatest ever?) is still playing supremely well, when Rafael Nadal (greatest ever?) is still at the height of his powers, when Andy Murray plays surpassing tennis, when tournament fields are loaded with huge servers and clay-court specialists and human walls. On Monday, in the U.S. Open final, Djokovic played a grueling four-set match with Nadal that had several of the most spectacular points I can remember seeing. But there was never really a moment's doubt who was the better player. Nadal is pretty close to unbeatable by anybody else -- he has beaten Federer all three times they have faced this year, beaten Murray all four times, he gave up only six games to Roddick two days earlier -- but Djokovic's game and will break him apart. It took everything Nadal had inside (and Nadal has a considerable sporting soul inside) just to extend this match to four sets.
Novak Djokovic is closing in on what most experts are calling the greatest tennis season ever. It has been one heck of a season, no question. He has won three of the four major championships -- the sixth man in the Open Era to do that, if I'm not mistaken. He has lost just two matches all year. And he has dominated in a particularly wonderful time in men's tennis, when Roger Federer (greatest ever?) is still playing supremely well, when Rafael Nadal (greatest ever?) is still at the height of his powers, when Andy Murray plays surpassing tennis, when tournament fields are loaded with huge servers and clay-court specialists and human walls. On Monday, in the U.S. Open final, Djokovic played a grueling four-set match with Nadal that had several of the most spectacular points I can remember seeing. But there was never really a moment's doubt who was the better player. Nadal is pretty close to unbeatable by anybody else -- he has beaten Federer all three times they have faced this year, beaten Murray all four times, he gave up only six games to Roddick two days earlier -- but Djokovic's game and will break him apart. It took everything Nadal had inside (and Nadal has a considerable sporting soul inside) just to extend this match to four sets.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Wins and WAR and MVPs
I got back-to-back emails last week from Brilliant Readers that pretty much sums up my frustration with so many gripes about baseball statistics. The first was written to defend the pitcher's win. I was actually glad to get that because I obviously did not do a good enough job making the irony clear in my In Praise of Pitcher Wins (Sort Of) post last week. Maybe if I had titled it "In Praise Of Pitcher Wins (Not Really)" or "In Praise of Pitcher Wins (LOL; I Spend 99.2% of the Article Ripping Pitcher Wins)" the point might have been clearer. But I heard from so many people who actually thought I was PRAISING pitcher wins, and they wanted me to know pitcher wins are not a good way to measure pitchers and that they're a waste of time and all those things I have spent 500,000 words on the last few years. Ah, well, when you hear from that many people missing it, then it's the writer's fault. I obviously did not get the point across well enough.
But some Brilliant Readers did get my intention, and one in particular made a well-reasoned argument that wins, flawed as they are, do tell us with a pretty decent sense of accuracy whether a pitcher is good or not, especially over a long career. OK, put that thought away for a minute.
The next email was from another Brilliant Reader who had myriad complaints about WAR. This too was well-reasoned, and it made the point that WAR is far from perfect, that the formula between Baseball Reference and Fangraphs is quite different, that it's ridiculous to take out the human element from baseball analysis and simply determine who is the best player by the decimal points of WAR.
It was good to read those back-to-back, because in just two emails I felt like I had seen the arc. The first BR wants too little from stats. The second BR expects ways too much.
But some Brilliant Readers did get my intention, and one in particular made a well-reasoned argument that wins, flawed as they are, do tell us with a pretty decent sense of accuracy whether a pitcher is good or not, especially over a long career. OK, put that thought away for a minute.
The next email was from another Brilliant Reader who had myriad complaints about WAR. This too was well-reasoned, and it made the point that WAR is far from perfect, that the formula between Baseball Reference and Fangraphs is quite different, that it's ridiculous to take out the human element from baseball analysis and simply determine who is the best player by the decimal points of WAR.
It was good to read those back-to-back, because in just two emails I felt like I had seen the arc. The first BR wants too little from stats. The second BR expects ways too much.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Our Flag Was Still There
Brilliant Reader Marlene asked me to repost a column I wrote for The Kansas City Star just after 9/11. I was thinking about it when I heard someone singing the National Anthem on Sunday. I was in a different life phase 10 years ago, on 9/11. I was a new father -- our Elizabeth was less than two weeks old -- and was emotional and exhausted and ecstatic. All of us had 9/11 affect us in different ways. The driving emotion I felt was wondering what world my daughter would come to know.
In any case, this column ran in The Kansas City Star on Sept. 14, 2001.
In any case, this column ran in The Kansas City Star on Sept. 14, 2001.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Thoughts about American Tennis
Here is something you probably did not know -- I didn't: This U.S. Open marks the ninth straight time that not a single American man has made even the semifinal of a Grand Slam tennis tournament.
It's funny because the last week or so, based on watching broadcasts and reading about the Open, it seems like American men have been doing GREAT at this U.S. Open. This being America, the coverage has been overwhelmingly American, with commentators barely (or not at all) concealing their giddiness about the arrival of Donald Young (crushed in straight sets in the Round of 16), the admirable grit of Mardy Fish (five set loss to lower-ranked Jo-Wilfried Tsonga in Round of 16), the spectacular rise of John Isner (tough four-set loser to Andy Murray in quarters) and the reemergence of that old American knight Andy Roddick (managed 6 total games against Rafa Nadal in quarters). At one point, Dick Enberg -- who is the greatest of all tennis announcers, I believe -- said: "Good news coming out of Louis Armstrong Stadium," and by "good news" he meant that Mardy Fish was in position to win a set. At times, I thought JIm Courier was going to go out on the court in the middle of the match and be Mardy Fish's doubles partner.
It's funny because the last week or so, based on watching broadcasts and reading about the Open, it seems like American men have been doing GREAT at this U.S. Open. This being America, the coverage has been overwhelmingly American, with commentators barely (or not at all) concealing their giddiness about the arrival of Donald Young (crushed in straight sets in the Round of 16), the admirable grit of Mardy Fish (five set loss to lower-ranked Jo-Wilfried Tsonga in Round of 16), the spectacular rise of John Isner (tough four-set loser to Andy Murray in quarters) and the reemergence of that old American knight Andy Roddick (managed 6 total games against Rafa Nadal in quarters). At one point, Dick Enberg -- who is the greatest of all tennis announcers, I believe -- said: "Good news coming out of Louis Armstrong Stadium," and by "good news" he meant that Mardy Fish was in position to win a set. At times, I thought JIm Courier was going to go out on the court in the middle of the match and be Mardy Fish's doubles partner.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
A Whole Lot About 1-0 Games
So here you will find everything you ever and never wanted to know about pitchers who have won -- and lost -- 1-0 games over the last 50 years. It's a dying art. This year, for instance, only six pitchers pitched complete game shutouts and won 1-0 -- Yovani Gallardo back in early April, Francisco Liriano, Jake Peavy and Anibal Sanchez in May, Dan Haren and C.C. Sabathia within five days of each other in early July.
Oh, the 1-0 game as a team effort is actually making a bit of a comeback. There have been 51 of them this year, which is certainly more than there were throughout the 1990s and early 2000s. There were 62 1-0 games in 2010 -- the most in baseball since the early 1970s. But even in 2010, only 10 pitchers threw the complete game shutouts (10 DIFFERENT pitchers, I might add). As we all know, pitchers just aren't staying in games to throw all nine innings. Even pitchers throwing the shutout in 1-0 games are getting pulled. In June, for instance, the Pirates beat Houston 1-0 and used six pitchers to do it. SIX.* This is how the game has evolved.
*In 2006 only one pitcher -- Jeremy Sowers -- won 1-0 all year.
Oh, the 1-0 game as a team effort is actually making a bit of a comeback. There have been 51 of them this year, which is certainly more than there were throughout the 1990s and early 2000s. There were 62 1-0 games in 2010 -- the most in baseball since the early 1970s. But even in 2010, only 10 pitchers threw the complete game shutouts (10 DIFFERENT pitchers, I might add). As we all know, pitchers just aren't staying in games to throw all nine innings. Even pitchers throwing the shutout in 1-0 games are getting pulled. In June, for instance, the Pirates beat Houston 1-0 and used six pitchers to do it. SIX.* This is how the game has evolved.
*In 2006 only one pitcher -- Jeremy Sowers -- won 1-0 all year.
Monday, September 5, 2011
In Praise Of Wins (Sort Of)
Every now and again here, you might have noticed, I will throw a few body blows at the bloated concept of "pitcher wins." But -- and I don't know if I've ever made this clear -- I would not want pitcher wins to go away. For one thing, they are fun to argue about. It amazes and entertains me to no end the logical maze people will take to argue that pitchers can win games more-or-less singlehandedly. The Mighty Win people certainly understand that pitchers don't strike out the majority of hitters they face. They obviously know that different ballparks have different configurations. They can't help but realize that pitchers cannot win games unless the offense scores at least one run, usually four or five or more.*
*Justin Verlander is pitching amazing baseball this year. The Tigers have still scored five or more runs in 13 of his 21 wins. The Tigers have scored four runs in another five of his wins.
They also must understand that in today's world starting pitchers almost never pitch all nine innings, and rarely pitch eight. Up to the moment, there have been 1,477 games where a starting pitcher won in 2011, and the average inning total is actually fewer than 7 (it's about 6 2/3 innings). It breaks down like so (and fractions are included -- so 8 innings also include 81/3 and 8/23 innings):
Complete game: 7.2%
Eight innings: 13.1%
Seven innings: 33.0%
Six innings: 33.4%
Five innings: 13.3%
So you can see that a winning starting pitcher is almost twice as likely to pitched fewer than six innings as throw a complete game. How absurd is it to say that a pitcher who threw 5 1/3 innings WON a game? Not too absurd, apparently. We say it all the time.
*Justin Verlander is pitching amazing baseball this year. The Tigers have still scored five or more runs in 13 of his 21 wins. The Tigers have scored four runs in another five of his wins.
They also must understand that in today's world starting pitchers almost never pitch all nine innings, and rarely pitch eight. Up to the moment, there have been 1,477 games where a starting pitcher won in 2011, and the average inning total is actually fewer than 7 (it's about 6 2/3 innings). It breaks down like so (and fractions are included -- so 8 innings also include 81/3 and 8/23 innings):
Complete game: 7.2%
Eight innings: 13.1%
Seven innings: 33.0%
Six innings: 33.4%
Five innings: 13.3%
So you can see that a winning starting pitcher is almost twice as likely to pitched fewer than six innings as throw a complete game. How absurd is it to say that a pitcher who threw 5 1/3 innings WON a game? Not too absurd, apparently. We say it all the time.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Pujols Being Pujols
So, I posted this on Twitter:
Since May 4, Albert Pujols is hitting .312 and slugging .596.
In 2010, when Albert Pujols finished second in the MVP voting, he hit .312 and slugged .596.
I made the point only to say that things have evened out for the Great Albert and that his first 30 games -- when he hit .231/.298/.419 -- just represented a bad month, nothing more, nothing less. Maybe he was spooked and distracted by the contract negotiations. Maybe he was injured. Maybe he just had a bad month. Whatever. He's back.
Since May 4, Albert Pujols is hitting .312 and slugging .596.
In 2010, when Albert Pujols finished second in the MVP voting, he hit .312 and slugged .596.
I made the point only to say that things have evened out for the Great Albert and that his first 30 games -- when he hit .231/.298/.419 -- just represented a bad month, nothing more, nothing less. Maybe he was spooked and distracted by the contract negotiations. Maybe he was injured. Maybe he just had a bad month. Whatever. He's back.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Best Band Name Ever
Long car rides send my mind along strange and twisted alleys, and so it was while driving up to State College that I determined what is the best band name of all time. But before I tell you, I should say two things:
(1) You won't agree. You just won't. If you have a strong opinion about best band name, you undoubtedly know more about this than I do and should stop right now. And I am pretty sure that if you have ever thought about best band names even for a moment or two, you have NEVER thought of the name that I chose. You might as well know that up front.
(2) I mean something very specific by "best band name." I don't mean the most creative band name or the most original or the funniest or the catchiest. I mean something else. I mean the band name that most perfectly intersects with the music.
(1) You won't agree. You just won't. If you have a strong opinion about best band name, you undoubtedly know more about this than I do and should stop right now. And I am pretty sure that if you have ever thought about best band names even for a moment or two, you have NEVER thought of the name that I chose. You might as well know that up front.
(2) I mean something very specific by "best band name." I don't mean the most creative band name or the most original or the funniest or the catchiest. I mean something else. I mean the band name that most perfectly intersects with the music.
Frankenpitcher vs. Frankenpitcher
A couple of nights ago, on spur of moment, I challenged Keith Law to do a little Twitter Co-Chat at some point in the future. I didn't even know what Twitter co-chat meant and neither did he. But Keith, being Keith, promptly decided to get one started. I'd say we answered 40 or 50 questions before basically every one of my followers got disgusted and unfollowed me, which was a wise move on their part.
Anyway, one of the questions was something like this: If you could invent the perfect pitcher, how would you do it? This was not exactly the question, but that's how I read it. See: Years ago, when I worked at The Augusta Chronicle, the supremely talented artist Rick McKee and I worked on a project we called "Frankengolfer," where we tried to create the perfect golfer (Jack Nicklaus' head … Ben Crenshaw's putter … Tom Watson's short game … Ben Hogan's irons … I can't really remember what we did).
Anyway, that was one of my favorite projects in Augusta and this question reminded me of that. So, off the top of my head, I tried came up with something like a perfect pitcher. And then, after a couple of nights and a long drive to think about it, I've come up with something more detailed: Frankenpitcher vs. Frankenpitcher -- an all-time pitcher composite facing off against a current pitcher composite. Which one is the more perfect pitcher?
Of course, if I simply wanted the perfect pitcher I could have just said: Pedro Martinez circa 1999.
Anyway, one of the questions was something like this: If you could invent the perfect pitcher, how would you do it? This was not exactly the question, but that's how I read it. See: Years ago, when I worked at The Augusta Chronicle, the supremely talented artist Rick McKee and I worked on a project we called "Frankengolfer," where we tried to create the perfect golfer (Jack Nicklaus' head … Ben Crenshaw's putter … Tom Watson's short game … Ben Hogan's irons … I can't really remember what we did).
Anyway, that was one of my favorite projects in Augusta and this question reminded me of that. So, off the top of my head, I tried came up with something like a perfect pitcher. And then, after a couple of nights and a long drive to think about it, I've come up with something more detailed: Frankenpitcher vs. Frankenpitcher -- an all-time pitcher composite facing off against a current pitcher composite. Which one is the more perfect pitcher?
Of course, if I simply wanted the perfect pitcher I could have just said: Pedro Martinez circa 1999.
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