einstein performing the wave

On April 6, 1973, Ron Blomberg stepped to the plate at Fenway Park; just another opening day between Blomberg’s New York Yankees and Boston Red Sox. But it was more. Blomberg became the first ever Designated Hitter and baseball’s soft core civil war grew a new branch.

On one side were the National League purists who argued that pitchers must bat. The American League only DH was a gross corruption of the game and some even questioned if the American League was a major league at all. The DH diminished strategical maneuvers; just kick back and wait for the three run homer.

beyondearthseries.com

Two distinct identities emerged. The clash came to a climax every October in the World Series. The debate raged on until the mid 1990’s when lion maybe didn’t lay down with lamb, but they shared a cup of coffee. Inter-league regular season play was launched and the tension dispersed.

But there is no baseball without controversy and debate. The us versus them hooray for our side changed venues. Number crunchers versus those who trust their own instincts and eyes surfaced again. The debate is as old as baseball itself.

Sabermetrics is often referred to as a revolution and that makes sense to me as I google the Latin origin of the word; revolvere “turn, roll back” as in nothing new, as in returning to the way baseball was once perceived by a controversial minority way back when Henry Chadwick walked the baseball earth, way back when baseball was in its formative days.

Chadwick championed the base on balls. He questioned why errors were considered negative. You reach more balls on defense, you logically make more errors. Chadwick was blown off and for what? To keep baseball simple? To not alienate the masses, To sell tickets? To make money?

It wouldn’t be the first time power trippers reduced complicated realities into simple black and white explanations, appealing to emotions through colorful imagery. Demagoguery.  

The number crunchers didn’t disappear. They continued to toil away in makeshift labs; sharing information through snail mail and the backs of baseball digest. Data collected and analyzed. Formulas, calculations, player evaluations integrating dozens and dozens of variables so we could better understand what just happened and forecast what might happen, separate the “signal from the noise.”

Allan Roth; sabr.org

Allan Roth attended Montreal Royals baseball games in the 1940’s. The Royals were the AAA affiliate of the Brooklyn Dodgers. Roth approached Dodgers GM Branch Rickey and offered him his statistical services. He was hired and OB% was soon integrated into the Dodger evaluation of players. Roth became baseball’s first full time statistician.

Bill James worked as a third shift janitor in Kansas during the 1970’s; a perfect job to crunch numbers and carry the torch onward. There were many others.

The internet brought their underground “subversive” findings to light and over the last 15 years or so, sabermetrics went mainstream with kids no longer just collecting baseball cards. They preached about WAR and BABIP and ISO. The best of both worlds, no? Numbers, formulas, and percentages sharing a place with our own eyes and instincts and yet, some continue to be angry and hate one side or the other.

In one corner is the revolution deepening every day with new formulas and evaluations. And in the other corner are those who question if these math whizzes even watch the game. It smells like a dissing. If something is too complicated, then call it stupid; dehumanize it and champion your own cause, desperation.

My math IQ is sub high school level and so I listen to these math whizzes. I’m in awe of them.The proliferation of sabermetric research feels like an apocalypse in the old Greek sense of the word, as in Apokalyptein, as in “uncover, disclose, reveal” bring us closer to the reality of a baseball game.

A revolution as we return to an ancient time when our ancestors could maybe see and perceive more than we can today; revealing what was always there. We just couldn’t see it. I find the attempt remarkable. Nowadays, all major league teams use some form of sabermetric research when drafting players, filling out a batting order, aligning a defense, and so on.

The number 105 flashes across the TV screen. It’s not a radar clocking  the pitch of Aroldis Champam. It’s the speed of a ball hit by Carlos Gomez. I don’t know how long the data has been available  but it must have added a new wrinkle to an already difficult value to determine; a player’s defensive range.

Seattle’s BigDoor Media

I want the Brewer’s manager to rely in part on his own instincts, but I also want him to rely on NASA engineers, chemistry professors, and anonymous math whizzes who happen to also be baseball fans. 

The Brewers are west, in Arizona; first pitch was 9:40 EST. I fell asleep in the 1st inning, but according to mlb.com’s digital morning box score, the final score was Brewers 9, Arizona 3. There’s sabermetric inspired information listed. It raises more questions than answers.

The Brewers are 42-29.

There was no revolution

Davey Johnson walks into manager Earl Weaver’s office and hands him a document; “How to Optimize the Orioles lineup.” Johnson is the author. The bizarre numbers explain why Johnson should be batting fourth in a line up including Frank Robinson and Boog Powell. He batted clean up only five times in his eight seasons as an Oriole.

Johnson studied math at Trinity College in the 1960’s and dabbled with statistics and probability long before crunching numbers came into vogue. He brought computers to the minor leagues as a manager of the Tidewater Tides in 1983.

Johnson currently manages the Washington Nationals and over 17 years has compiled a winning percentage of .562 (1372-1071) including a World Series triumph with the New York Mets in 1986.

Statistics are no longer the sole domain of math wizards. The pastime has slipped into the mainstream, but it is nothing new. As a matter of fact, it’s been a part of baseball since way back in the 19th century. It simply suffered a slap in the face and like any innovation was forced under ground to toil away in obscurity until the climate was ripe for a revival. There is no revolution, just a return.

Bill James was once a third shift security guard at the Stokely-Van Camps pork and been cannery in his home state of Kansas. The job was a perfect place to crank out his baseball writings that avoided the trappings of baseball as some sacred, primal, mythological pastime. James asked questions and then answered them with numbers. How would Fred Lynn fare outside Fenway Park?

His findings were offered to Baseball Digest subscribers in the 1970’s and a few dozens fans bought the Bill James Baseball abstracts, but he was barely a blip on baseball’s radar. Nowadays, he works for the Boston Red Sox and since he joined in 2003, they’ve won three World Series.

The Bill James bandwagon has no vacancy these days. It’s filled with followers and clones and loud mouth detractors who still insist baseball is more about green grass, blue skies, and the excitement of seeing a triple, but Bill James loves baseball, watches baseball and so do most stat geeks.The calculations, algorithms and comparisons simply add a new perspective or rather revive an old one.

Before Bill James, there was earnest Earnshaw Cook’s “Percentages Baseball” and before Cook there was the founder of baseball’s box score; Henry Chadwick and in between there were dozens of engineers, chemists and the fan next door who moonlighted as number crunchers.

Chadwick championed the walk as a vital measure to a player’s performance. He also questioned errors since a defender reaching hard to reach batted balls makes more of them. The debate of range versus fielding percentage is over 100 years old.

Mahatma

It seems fitting that Dodgers President Branch Rickey would be the first to actually apply statistics to on field decisions. Rickey had already invented the baseball farm system and paved the way for African-Americans. It was on the same field where Jackie Robinson launched his pro career that number crunching gained legitimacy.

Pierre Dupuy high school in Montreal has a soccer field covered in fluorescent green turf. It’s annoying when you consider what was once there.

Delorimier Downs

Delorimier Stadium was home to the Montreal Royals; the AAA affiliate of the Brooklyn Dodgers from 1928-1960. The 20,000 seat stadium experienced a lot of firsts over 32 years; from Gene Mauch to Jackie Robinson, Tommy Lasorda, Roberto Clemente, Duke Snider as well as one who never stepped on the field, but his contributions were just as significant.

Montreal native Allan Roth kept statistics for the Montreal Canadians hockey team. In 1947, he contacted Rickey’s open mind, one that earned him the nickname Mahatma-great soul in Sanskrit. I love imagining the look on Branch Rickey’s face when Roth suggested a manager might benefit from knowing right-handed batters tend to bat better against southpaws.

Rickey hired Roth as baseball’s first full-time statistician. Roth kept pitch counts, a batter’s various splits and he fed reams of numbers to a guy sitting next to him in the press box-Mr. Vin Scully.

Roth moved west with the Dodgers in 1958. He died in 1992. The Los Angeles SABR Chapter is named in his honor.

the old baseball field montreal

Milwaukee’s shuttle bus to Miller Park  is #90 with a dashboard flashing “Go Brewers.” The green limousine rolls along Wisconsin Avenue, turns on 45th street and Bluemound Road.

miller park-wikicommons

I like getting off at Robin Yount Drive before the descent into Menominee Valley. The slow stroll along the north parking lot is tailgater dome grills, lawn chairs, frisbee, beer, brats, and banter.

Miller Park disappears from view inside a short over pass tunnel and then there she is looking like a mix of Ebbet’s Field, European train station, and outer space insect.

And when I’m far away roaming Montreal in search of nothing in particular, that descent into the valley is with me like a lucky roll of will, urban design, and destiny turning my feet into a wild card compass; guiding me towards unexpected places.

It’s just an old baseball field on the north side of Mount Royal beside Bates street, but my mind slips into focus.

The home run fence is equal in height from left field to right and equal in foliage hiding traces of an older identity. Only center field is metal and naked with clouds, sky, and horizon easily seen.

There’s a scoreboard in right center. Most of the bulbs for balls, strikes, and outs are missing. Five light towers hover over the field. There is something ethereal about baseball at night.

But there are no more games on this field. All the elements are free to fade away like a savage beach. The sun is out on this day and a family of four is playing. Dad is pitcher, mom catcher. Girl plays first base, boy bats. No one seems to know what day it is. Neither do I.

Delorimier Stadium leftovers-Jackie plaque

There are no ghosts on the base paths and no cleats crunching echoes on the asphalt, but I still wonder about kids from 1976 and their 7 inning game not being enough, hopping on sting ray bikes and riding east along Ducharme and north up St. Laurence  towards Jarry Park for a swim and the Expos hosting the San Diego Padres.

Or maybe it was 20 years earlier in 1956 and kids turned right on St. Laurent street and rode south and east towards Delorimier Stadium where the Montreal Royals were playing the Syracuse Chiefs and Jackie Robinson was at a second base or in the batter’s box adding to his .468 OB% that season, his only one in Montreal.