“Playing The Game The Right Way” Usually Just Means “Good”

The phrase “playing the game the right way” has always bothered me. A favorite of commentators across a variety of sports, this phrase’s only purpose is to irritate me. The literalist in me flails angrily when it is told that “Player X plays the game the right way,” because really, no one runs around the bases clockwise or carries the basketball around with them like a rugby player. Everyone plays the game the right way. The analyst in me seethes when it is told that “Team Y play the game the right way,” because this brings absolutely nothing to the table in the way of greater scrutiny or understanding. If anything, this utterance detracts from the discussion. Unfortunately, this expression reared its ugly head three separate times in the last 24 hours, necessitating this post.

Before going to bed last night, I perused Tim Kurkjian’s piece on the Minnesota Twins. Its thesis, much to my dismay, is that the Twins have prospered under manager Ron Gardenhire largely because of the organization’s “doing things/playing the game the right way” mantra. I sighed wistfully, brushed my teeth, and crawled into bed.

I turned on the MLB Network this afternoon. A four-man panel, including Harold Reynolds and former general manager John Hart, were discussing the Baltimore Orioles. In a feeble attempt to diagnose the team’s recent woes, Reynolds said:

“One thing that has been passed down from generation to generation in Baltimore that the Orioles have kind of gotten away from is the idea of ‘Orioles baseball,’ or ‘the Oriole way.’ It hasn’t really been around since Cal Ripken left, the idea of doing things the right way, and that’s been hurting this ball club.”

My jaw stiffened. I bit my lower lip, exhaled deeply, and then ate a slice of pizza.

During the Twins-Yankees Spring Training game later in the afternoon, a discussion of the Twins’ success in spite of their low payroll began. The camera cut to Gardenhire. Play-by-play man Michael Kay admiringly offered “boy, the Twins really do play the game the right way.” I implode.

I have come to the conclusion that “doing things/playing the game the right way” is synonymous with “good.” I believe this for the same reason that I believe a “professional hitter” is synonymous with “white bench player in his mid-30s with no power but some contact”; because whenever I hear someone described as a “professional hitter,” that player is usually a white bench player in his mid-30s with no power but some contact ability. But Fan Interference seeks validate suspicions through research, so it would be negligent for me to draw the “doing things/playing the game the right way” : “good” comparison without backing it up statistically. 

Let’s compare the post-Ripken Orioles (not doing things the right way) to the Gardenhire-led Twins (doing things the right way). Conveniently, both eras began in 2002. Since 2002, the Orioles have ranked:

• 29th, 23rd, 7th, 17th, 11th, 17th, and 13th in OBP
• 23rd, 22nd, 15th, 8th, 20th, 19th, and 10th in SLG
• 20th, 22nd, 20th, 23rd, 29th, 29th, and 29th in ERA
• 9th, 25th, 23rd, 20th, 25th, 14th, and 18th in Defensive Efficiency

In that same span, the Twins have ranked:

• 16th, 9th, 16th, 21st, 7th, 19th, and 9th in OBP
• 6th, 9th, 16th, 29th, 17th, 27th, and 20th in SLG
• 14th, 16th, 6th, 7th, 3rd, 8th, and 13th in ERA
• 8th, 11th, 22nd, 7th, 17th, 16th, and 19th in Defensive Efficiency

The culmination of these statistics is seasons of 67, 71, 78, 74, 70, 69, and 68 wins for the Orioles; 94, 90, 92, 83, 96, 79, and 88 for the Twins. The Orioles haven’t been bad because they’ve gotten away from whatever the heck “Oriole baseball” is. They’ve been bad because they can’t really hit, they certainly can’t pitch, their defense is lacking, and they play in a division with the Yankees and Red Sox. The Twins haven’t been good because, by golly, they do things the right way. They’ve been good because they hit well enough, pitch their butts off in front of an average defense, and play in a division with no superpowers. That’s it.

I’m convinced, small sample be damned, that this unhelpful phrase is simply a lazy way of describing a good team. Interestingly, all good teams are not described as “doing things the right way.” I’ve never heard the Yankees, Athletics, or Mets described in this way. On the other hand, the Twins, Red Sox, Braves, and Angels are often given this label. And you most certainly never, ever hear of bad teams that “do things the right way” but just can’t compete because of the talent gap. It’s a meaningless and arbitrarily-applied statement, and it does nothing to inform the audience.

It Must Be Baseball Season!

I’m going to keep this short, because for the first time in four long months, I can turn on the television and watch baseball being played instead of imagining it in my head. Celebrating imaginary home runs is a great way to clear a subway car, I’ve discovered. Anyway, about two minutes into today’s Rays-Yankees Spring Training game, Yankees’ play-by-play man Michael Kay showed us that his new year’s resolution was not “provide context when remarking on a statistic.” Kay:

“Batting second is Yankee-killer Carl Crawford, who always owns the Bombers – you see his .296 batting average against them.”

Carl Crawford’s career batting average is .293.

Happy baseball season!

UPDATE: Derek Jeter just grounded weakly to short. It really must be baseball season.

In Loving Memory Of “Intangible”: Fine Adjective & Acceptable Noun, 1640-2009

The waning moments of tonight’s Wake Forest-Duke game featured a graphic that highlighted the continued massacre of the English language. The victim, as is often the case, was the word “intangible.” This perfectly innocent word was once again subjected to a coordinated effort to raze its satisfactory meaning.

As the clock wound down, play-by-play man Tim Brando said:

“Let’s take a look at the intangibles that may have had an effect on this game – turnovers, points off turnovers, fast break points, bench points, and points in the paint.”

Brando’s partners-in-crime then guiltlessly posted a graphic on the screen that compared the teams’ performances in each of these categories. Discussion ensued. Then, somewhere across the Atlantic, from the general direction of Stratford-upon-Avon, an anguished cry rang out into the wintry night.

Look, if something is intangible, it means it cannot be touched or quantified. It’s abstract. Things like “creativity,” “leadership,” and “the anger a reasonably intelligent 22 year old male feels when a word is mangled” are intangible. I understand that you cannot palpably touch a turnover or a point, but their clear occurrence before thousands of watchful eyes and their subsequent logging as data suggests that these are things we can measure with a great degree of certainty. These are outcomes, not concepts. 

Historically, broadcasters and analysts discuss a player’s value with respect to his numbers (i.e. points, rebounds, assists) and his “intangibles” (i.e. leadership, knowledge, attitude). If points have suddenly fallen into the latter category, what counts as “tangible” now?

Unselfishness Is Unnecessary In Baseball

A few nights ago, I flipped to the fairly-new MLB Network during a commercial. Harold Reynolds was moderating a discussion about this year’s World Baseball Classic. There were two analysts, one of whom I did not recognize. The other was former Cincinnati Reds shortstop Barry Larkin, who made a point with which I strongly disagree. Here’s what he said:

REYNOLDS: How is Team USA approaching the WBC differently this year compared to last time around?

LARKIN: I think the key difference is that this year, Team USA has moved away from taking just the best players, and instead has taken the best team. You’ve got guys like Mark DeRosa, who you can move around a bit and who’s willing to do the little things for the team. You’ve got to have players who are willing to put a bunt down, hit behind a runner, and play situational baseball. You’ve got to have those players who are willing to sacrifice their personal stats for the good of the team.

I think Larkin’s assessment demonstrates a fundamental lack of understanding of how baseball works. In baseball, more so than any other major sport, it is more important to have the best players instead of the best “team.” This is because baseball is, essentially, a long and exhausting series of one-on-one encounters. Baseball is the pitcher versus the batter, and then versus the next batter, and so on and so forth until the first pitcher becomes tired or ineffective. Then, it’s the new pitcher versus (usually) the same batters as before. The outcome of each individual encounter is either something that helps create a run or detracts from its creation. If a lineup is comprised of nine players who are good at not making outs, and a pitching staff is comprised of players who are good at getting the opponent out, then you have a good team.

Big 10 Basketball, An Animated Adjudicator, And Shane Battier

I’m working on a few major posts, but in the meantime, I’d just like to share with you three links that require three different amounts of time to enjoy.

The first and briefest is, quite simply, the box score from tonight’s Penn State-Illinois game. The final score? 38-33, Penn State. Lately I’ve been adding pictures to my posts, because they often add visual flair to this formerly drab space. In that vein, my first instinct was to include in this post a picture of someone projectile vomiting, because I think that’s more relevant to this game than either team’s logo or mascot. But, because this is a family website, I’m taking the G-rated route.

There. Hooray Big 10 basketball.

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While watching tonight’s Providence-Louisville game, I noticed that one referee in particular was making his calls with tremendous vigor and conviction. After seconds of squinting, it occurred to me that the coaches, players, and fans were graced with the enthusiastic presence of Ed Hightower, who can often be found assuming positions like this when spotting an infraction:

 

Now, this guy isn’t the most enthusiastic professional referee. But he’s hyperactive enough to have inspired a fantastically funny gallery to which Deadspin linked a couple weeks ago. It can be found here. My personal favorite, for those interested, is the “Mystery Science Theater 3000” rendition. There’s something for everyone.

* * * * * * *

Lastly, I wanted to share with you The New York Times’ recent piece on the increasing use of statistical analysis in the NBA. In the column, Michael Lewis (of Moneyball fame) examines Houston Rockets swingman Shane Battier, his under-appreciated skills, and the Rockets’ deployment of those skills based on unconventional but fruitful scrutiny. It’s a bit long, but it’s awfully interesting and well worth the time investment for basketball fans and generally curious readers alike. 

Florida’s Decision Could Hurt Argument’s Credibility

While watching Alex Rodriguez’s press conference today, I caught a brief but interesting blurb on ESPNews’ ticker. The blurb essentially reported this story. To summarize, Florida has ended its high school steroid-testing program because the benefit didn’t justify the cost:

Florida’s pilot steroid-testing program has been eliminated, the result of budget concerns from state officials who said they cannot justify spending the $100,000 needed to do the testing.

Only one steroid user was found among 600 teens tested. Tests were randomly administered at 53 schools, at a cost of $166 apiece.

…

The decision leaves just three states — New Jersey, Illinois and Texas — that test high school athletes for steroids.

This development is interesting in light of the steroid-induced frenzy currently engulfing Major League Baseball. From the very beginning of the steroids issue, everyone from athletes to Congressmen has cited the danger these drugs pose to young people as a primary impetus behind this crusade. Athletes under suspicion are asked “what kind of example are you setting?” and “how could you possibly explain this to young people for whom you serve as a role model?” In testimonies and hearings, press conferences and interviews, we have been told that the use of steroids amongst young people is a very real problem with very real consequences. All of this, we are told, is why this issue matters.

I often stress the importance of sample size when evaluating information, so I must be careful not to over-state my case here. But I find it incredibly interesting that just 0.16% of eligible Florida high school football players, baseball players, and weightlifters tested positive for steroids. It is a small sample in one state, which is not enough information to disprove the idea that steroids are a problem in high school athletics. It is, however, more information than we had before, and thus far it suggests that maybe Major League Baseball and Congress have been getting their knickers in a twist about a relatively small issue.

No Steroids? No Outrage

On Sunday night, Phoenix Suns’ guard Jason Richardson was arrested for speeding in Scottsdale, Arizona. Richardson was reportedly clocked at 90 mph in a 35 mph zone. That’s bad. Upon approaching Richardson’s vehicle, the officer noticed that the player’s 3-year-old son was in the car, and not in a child seat. That’s reprehensible.

If you can do this, you can avoid social ridicule.

But because there are no accusations of cheating, or opportunities for Congressional grandstanding, or threats to the sanctity of a sport, this story will go the Brett Myers route, and disappear within a week. Sometime in March, Richardson will be on the business end of a thunderous alley-oop, and his reckless and horrific endangerment of his own child will be long forgotten because he has a vertical leap of 40 inches. 

Like I said, the steroids scandal reveals a lot more about us than it does the athletes.

Steve Lavin’s Analysis Doesn’t Quite Cut It

During February 10th’s Michigan State-Michigan game, ESPN’s color-commentator Steve Lavin made a fairly large generalization about college basketball teams:

“This is the time of year when teams start to hit a wall. In January, you’ve got a hop in your step, everyone is 0-0 coming out of non-conference play. In March, you’ve got tournaments. But February is when teams slow down, particularly younger teams.”

Initially, I yielded two questions from Lavin’s comment. The first: do teams, in fact, lose more games in February than in other months? Second: If so, is the effect greater in younger teams than their older counterparts?

After explaining the context, I discussed these questions with one of my closest and brightest friends. This was a good decision, because it took him about half a second to point out the inanity of the first question; namely, that all teams can’t hit a wall at the same time, because the number of losers always equals the number of winners. It’s reasonable to believe that Lavin didn’t mean literally all teams suffer in February, but some specificity would have helped. 

The first question still stands, however, if you realize what Lavin actually meant. He meant “this is the time of year when good teams hit a wall,” because really, how many basketball games with bad teams does Lavin watch? None, just like the rest of us (unless you’re a Vanderbilt fan). This intent releases him from the aforementioned logical problem, and allows for the possibility that bad teams benefit from the wall-hitting of the good ones. 

So, me being me, I decided to research the questions associated with Lavin’s statement.

Steroid Scandal Reveals More About Us Than The Players

As most of you know by now, Yankees’ third-baseman and Major League Baseball superstar Alex Rodriguez tested positive for performance-enhancing drugs in 2003. Over the weekend, sources told Sports Illustrated that Rodriguez was one of the 104 players who tested positive during 2003’s survey tests. Yesterday, Rodriguez admitted to ESPN’s Peter Gammons that he knowingly used PEDs for a period of time that roughly spanned the 2001, 2002, and 2003 seasons.

The sports media has been in a frenzy since Sports Illustrated broke the news. Reactions and analyses have varied from the idiotic to the measured, with very occasional forays into the wise. I have long-since accepted that a certain hysteria exists when it comes to baseball players using steroids, but that does not mean that I understand it. Most of the sports-following world is falling all over itself in its effort to condemn, vilify, and shame the transgressors. For my part, I choose to sit here in awe of the relentless incompetence, negligence, and hypocrisy that have characterized this scandal. It’s a lot to digest, and I’m not sure I’ve finished doing so. I am sure, however, that this whole fiasco says much more about us – our values, perceptions, and prejudices – than it does about the players themselves.

Final Thoughts On Jimmy Dykes & The SEC… Until March

If you’re sick of me talking about Jimmy Dykes and his feelings about the Southeastern Conference, I understand. Feel free to go do something else – explore my blogroll, make yourself a sandwich, or whatever makes you happy. I have a hard time apologizing for revisiting this subject, however, because I think it exemplifies some important shortcomings in the sports media’s treatment of its subjects. Specifically, Dykes’ comments about the SEC highlight a lack of accountability and analysis from which sports journalism far too often considers itself exempt.

As fate would have it (and by “fate,” I mean “ESPN’s regional broadcasting assignments”), Dykes and his partner Brad Nessler did the Alabama-Vanderbilt game last night. I greeted Dykes’ amiable visage not with loathing, but with bemusement, as I wondered to myself if the night held yet another impassioned endorsement of the SEC. I expected that Dykes would not oblige, because surely he would not risk becoming a caricature of himself; surely, he would not want to become known as “the paranoid guy who can be counted upon to defend the SEC during every one of his broadcasts.” I was wrong.