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Before last night’s game, I meant to post something like the following:

I just can’t shake the feeling that Bad A.J. will be showing up tonight. The Phillies are patient and Burnett is wild anyway, which is not a good combination. I also can’t shake the feeling that Pedro Martinez is going to junkball his way through six scoreless innings in his return to the Bronx. I would love to be wrong in both cases.

I was mostly wrong, and I couldn’t be happier. Burnett struck out nine and walked two in seven innings of outstanding work. Martinez’s performance (6 IP, 3 ER, 2 BB, 8 K) seemed pedestrian by comparison, but he really was in control for most of his outing. Both pitchers were pleasures to watch, even if I was actively rooting for Pedro’s rehabilitated shoulder to fall off.

On a less heartening note, the front page of ESPN.com has a “story” about Alex Rodriguez’s 0-for-8 performance so far in the World Series. You can get to it by clicking the image captioned “A-Rod’s Struggles.” You can probably imagine how I feel about this, but I want to point how just how stupid (and really, there is no other word for it) this article is. The article basically consists of Yankee players saying “it’s only eight at-bats”, “he’s the reason we’re here”, and “we’re not worried”, while Gene Wojciechowski retorts with “they can dress it up all they want, but A-Rod is choking.” It’s utter nonsense, and I’m profoundly disappointed that it took eight (EIGHT!) unproductive at-bats for national columnists to start readying the torches and pitchforks.

Go get ‘em in Game Three, boys.

Starting Chad Gaudin Is Just Asking For Trouble

Perhaps this is just selective memory, but the 2009 World Series seems to be coming together rather tidily. The narrative is clear, with the defending champion Phillies facing a Yankees team that is hungry to reclaim what was once regularly theirs. The primary talking point is simple: both teams are offensive powerhouses, and whichever team keeps the damage to a minimum will prevail. Generally, there seems to be little drama (although Pedro Martinez pitching Game Two at Yankee Stadium is pretty great) or intrigue.

Of course, as a neurotic Yankees fan (redundant?), this is unacceptable to me. It is my duty to find something either to fret about or something to caution as underestimated in its importance. Luckily, I have found both in the person of Yankees starting pitcher Chad Gaudin. Manager Joe Girardi and his staff are toying with the idea of giving Gaudin a start in Game Four or Five, thereby preventing C.C. Sabathia, Andy Pettitte, and A.J. Burnett from pitching on short rest throughout the series. Unsurprisingly, since he hasn’t pitched since October 3rd, there have been reports of Gaudin being “stretched out” for a possible start. As you may have guessed, I think starting Gaudin is a terrible idea, and for a different reason than you’ve probably heard most opponents of the idea cite.

Chad Gaudin’s chronic inability to retire left-handed hitters is a huge reason for concern. Since 2002, lefties have hit .293/.389/.433 against Gaudin (righties: .249/.318/.409). Even more starkly, Gaudin’s career K/BB against lefties is 0.84, as opposed to 2.80 against righties. These trends held true in the 2009 season as well. Lefties hit .296/.408/.415 against him, walking one more time than they struck out. Gaudin’s problems against lefties are not a prolonged fluke. They are a real problem, chronicled in real data over a significant sample size.

This deficiency wouldn’t be worth so much thought if the Yankees were playing a balanced or heavily right-handed team. The Phillies, however, get a great deal of their offense from left-handed hitters. Ryan Howard, Chase Utley, and Raul Ibanez form the heart of the Phillies’ lineup (righty Jayson Werth is mixed in there), and they are preceded by switch-hitters Jimmy Rollins and Shane Victorino. Here are each of their numbers against right-handed pitchers, both career and in 2009:

• Ryan Howard: .307/.409/.661 (career), .319/.395/.691 (2009)
• Chase Utley: .302/.375/.536 (career), .279/.387/.489 (2009)
• Raul Ibanez: .290/.354/.496, (career), .267/.342/.517 (2009)
• Jimmy Rollins: .272/.327/.435 (career), .257/.306/.422 (2009)
• Shane Victorino: .287/.347/.415 (career), .283/.347/.440 (2009)

The greatest concern of these five hitters is Ryan Howard. As I’ve mentioned before, Howard is the best hitter of right-handed pitching in baseball, and among the very worst against lefties. This factor alone should make the Yankees think twice about starting a fringy right-hander like Chad Gaudin. It gets worse. Utley murders major league pitching of either handedness, making Gaudin’s difficulty with lefties even more problematic. Interestingly, Ibanez posted a significant reverse split in 2009, destroying left-handers and hitting acceptably against righties. Even if this is a real change in Ibanez’s performance (which it isn’t), Gaudin turns average left-handed hitters (like 2009 Ibanez) into above-average ones because of his significant control problems against them. Starting Gaudin against these three hitters is just asking for trouble.

To be fair, Jimmy Rollins’ and Shane Victorino’s numbers against right-handers aren’t overwhelmingly impressive. In fact, both switch-hitters are stronger against lefties. But it isn’t their ability to put the bat on the ball against Gaudin that worries me. Instead, I’m fairly certain that Rollins and Victorino will draw walks. Rollins has never had a great eye, but he walks more against righties than lefties. Victorino walks more against lefties than righties, but has decent plate discipline overall. Ultimately, it’s not hard at all to envision Gaudin starting the game by walking one or both of them (Rollins leads off, Victorino bats second), and then having to retire the slugging, lefty-heavy heart of the order with runners on base. It’s a terrifying prospect that should never come to pass.

I understand why the Yankees would consider giving Gaudin a start; having Sabathia, Burnett, and Pettitte pitching on short rest for half the series is a tough alternative to face. This is, however, the World Series. A team must go with nothing but its best in all but the most hopeless of circumstances, and Gaudin is not the Yankees’ best. If the Yankees opt to give him a start (a decision that is still very much up in the air), they are essentially choosing to neutralize Werth, Pedro Feliz, and Carlos Ruiz, while taking their chances with Howard, Utley, and Ibanez. That looks an awful lot like a bad idea to me under any circumstances, but particularly so when the stakes cannot get any higher.

Alex Rodriguez: Not A Choker

Alex Rodriguez’s career batting line is .305/.390/.576.

Alex Rodriguez’s career postseason batting line is now .307/.408/.570.

Can we finally agree that Alex Rodriguez isn’t a weak-willed, unclutch, team-killing choker? Can we just recognize that his postseason struggles (which were grossly exaggerated, by the way) were just the randomness of a small sample size? With that explanation in mind, can we do away with the idea that postseason futility means a player lacks fortitude or some superior moral quality? Please?

More than a few people owe Rodriguez an apology for attacking his character and gumption over the last several years.

I Understand So Little

I could write four thousand words about the Yankees’ 7-6 loss to the Angels last night. In virtually every respect, it was a gut-wrenching game to watch. Bad A.J. showed up. There was more suspect umpiring. There were real rallies and near rallies. Many runners were left on base. The bullpen management (like I can go two consecutive posts without mentioning this) was terrible. It was just a long and hard game to watch, the sort of game that I’m pretty sure cut ten or fifteen minutes off my life.

Another cranky manifesto seems masochistic to me, so I’ll just pose all the questions that were running through my head throughout the game. Maybe one of you can shed some light on the answer, because I understand very little of the following:

• Why must the Yankees continue to start Jose Molina when A.J. Burnett pitches? And, given that they’re intent on doing this, why let Molina even hit in the top of the 3rd inning, when you’re already down 4-0? The Yankees reaped no benefits from his allegedly strong relationship with Burnett, and then let him hit. What’s the point?

• On the heels of an incredible six-run rally, why send Burnett out for the bottom of the 7th inning? And, given that they did that, why warm up Damaso Marte and Joba Chamberlain as your backup plan? If Burnett is out, that means he allowed baserunners, and Marte (terrible) and Chamberlain (trouble throwing strikes) are not reliever you want to deploy with runners on base.

• Where is David Robertson? Why not send Robertson out for the 7th inning? It could go Robertson (7th), Phil Hughes (8th), Mariano Rivera (9th), with each reliever fitting neatly into the stupid but conventional role system that managers love so much. Of course, the right move was to send out Rivera for the 7th and 8th, but it’s clear at this point that that’s asking too much.

• I’m still not done with this Robertson thing. Why are Hughes and Chamberlain both so clearly ahead of Robertson on Joe Girardi’s Totem Pole of Trust? Is it because Girardi thinks Robertson is a kid and not ready for the big moment? He got out of that bases loaded, nobody out jam against the Twins. He’s also older than Hughes and Chamberlain. Is it because Girardi thinks Robertson is worse than them? Chamberlain had a 4.75 ERA this season in 157 innings; Hughes had a 3.03 in 86. Look at Robertson’s numbers and tell me that he isn’t worthy of a shot. Is it because Robertson – through no fault of his own – has never before been branded as a baseball team’s set-up man (as Hughes and Chamberlain have), making him an unrealistic option with a late lead? I fear that’s exactly what it is.

• Why use Rivera when down 7-6 in the 8th, but not when tied 6-6 in the 7th? Is it because the number in the innings column is “7″ and not “8″ or “9″? I fear that’s exactly what it is.

• Down one run with two outs in the top of the 9th, why pinch-run for Alex Rodriguez at first, and then not send the runner? Once again, Girardi did something just because he could, and not because it was the right move.

I just don’t get this game sometimes.

Slumbering Umpires

Shortly after getting on 1 train at 181st street this morning, I noticed a slumbering passenger. This is not particularly unusual for the New York City subway system, or any form of public transportation. His arms were crossed, head leaned back, mouth agape – an oldie but a goodie as far as sleeping positions are concerned. But this is not why I noticed him. Emblazoned on his shirt’s left breast was “New York Umpires School.” I was both intrigued (wow, an umpire!) and disgusted (ugh, an umpire…), but now I’m mostly just confused, because apparently this school doesn’t exist. Fine. That wasn’t the point of my story anyway.

The train pulled into 157th street five minutes or so after I got on. The Slumbering Umpire jerked his head forward and groggily opened his eyes. The doors opened, people exited and entered. He looked around lethargically. The doors remained open, but it was now in those four or five seconds when you know they could close at any time. The Slumbering Umpire tilted his head back as the doors closed. Then, he jolted awake, clumsily sprint-weaved his way between standing passengers, and arrived at a door that had been closed for several seconds already. He hung his head, remaining there until he could get off at 145th street.

I don’t know what this means, but I found it incredibly funny. This is probably because my encounter came on the heels of a Yankees-Angels game in which umpires blew three calls, two of which were outrageously bad (find the game highlights here for the gory details). Umpire Tim McClelland erroneously called Nick Swisher out for leaving third base early on a sacrifice fly, even though replays showed McClelland wasn’t watching third base at all. He then somehow concluded that Robinson Cano was safe at third base, even though he was tagged by catcher Mike Napoli while nonchalantly standing off the base. Both these calls made me genuinely angry, so I took more than a little pleasure and found more than a little irony in the plight of this morning’s Slumbering Umpire. At least he had company. Tim McClelland might as well have been asleep in making those two calls.

Naturally, I sent this anecdote to my commuting girlfriend, who told me that she just had an encounter of her own. An insane, rambling, bearded Jesus freak (not that there’s anything wrong with that, but still) has been known to walk the length of the 1 train throughout the day, telling New Yorkers why we’re going to hell and what we can do to avoid such a fate. If you’re really lucky, he’ll more or less corner you and make his pitch personally. It’s great fun. Anyway, Jesus Man (as he has come to be known) was apparently on the prowl this morning, and I sort of wish that he and the Slumbering Umpire had crossed paths. I’m sure Jesus Man would be much more willing than I am to forgive the Slumbering Umpire and the rest of his kind for their transgressions. Maybe they’d rub off on one another, forming some sort of evangelical umpire. A Jumpire, perhaps?

“And the Lord said… YER OUT!”

Halloween is right around the corner, kids. If you’re looking for an original costume that is sure to make your friends wonder about your sanity, the evangelical umpire is right for you.

Alfredo Aceves Over David Robertson?

It’s my birthday, and it’s been a long day at that, so I’m not going to delve into the minutest of details like I usually do when I’m dissecting questionable bullpen management. If you’re really interested, just check out the play-by-play index and the box score, and you’ll get all the context you need.

I simply don’t understand why Yankees manager Joe Girardi pulled reliever David Robertson in favor of Alfredo Aceves with two outs and no one on in the bottom of the 11th inning. I suppose a cursory glance at their numbers might suggest that Aceves is a better pitcher than Robertson. Aceves, who relieved Robertson to face righty Howie Kendrick, posted a .228/.278/.414 line against righties in 2009. Robertson’s line was .237/.343/.409. With no runners on, opponents’ slugging takes on greater importance, and Robertson holds the edge in that regard. He allowed 0.7 HR/9, while Aceves allowed 1.1. Nevertheless, they’re basically the same in that situation, with Aceves possessing superior command and Robertson superior stuff (second in baseball with a 12.98 K/9).

So why yank Robertson, who had just convincingly retired Juan Rivera and Kendry Morales? He’s right-handed, just like Aceves. Robertson allows more batters to reach base, but strikes out more of them and keeps the ball in the park better than Aceves. Neither has a history against Kendrick (1 for 2 against Robertson with a single, Aceves had never faced him). Robertson threw 33 pitches on Saturday night, but Aceves threw 24. The choice between the two is a wash, so why make a move?

Irritatingly, I can’t avoid wondering if Girardi didn’t opt for Aceves because of his perceived veteran experience. Aceves, who is 26, had experience pitching in a Mexican league before signing with the Yankees in 2008. Robertson is 24. Both are in their second year of Major League Baseball. I fear this is the information Girardi relied on when making this baffling pitching change that may well have cost the Yankees the game. Perhaps I’m wrong. I hope I am. But any minute now, Girardi will be answering questions about this move, and I’m extremely curious to hear his reasoning. Because this reeks of over-managing to me.

UPDATE: We have just been graced with Joe Girardi’s explanation, and here it is: “We liked the matchup with [Aceves] better, and it didn’t work.”

In honor of this quotation, I’m adding the “feeble explanations” tag to the Fan Interference tag database.

Wrapping Up My Strongest Predictions From The 2009 MLB Season

It has been a hard week. My sixth graders are of the unwavering belief that I exist solely to torment them. I’m down to the final days of my early twenties (or perhaps not, as some think 23 still qualifies). There has been no baseball since Monday. I need cheering up, which is convenient, because I’ve been meaning to write a piece reminding my unsuspecting readers of out how right I was about these predictions. Well, I was on 80% of them. Here’s the long final word on these prognostications, in ascending order of accuracy.

Jim Tracy’s Incompetence Costs Rockies The Series

Baseball Prospectus’ Joe Sheehan and I have a fair amount in common. We’re both native New Yorkers. We both live on the Upper West Side of Manhattan (he has revealed this many times in chats, so no, I am not stalking him). We’re both Yankees fans. And we could both probably spend a little more time at the gym. Most pertinently, though, we’re both vigilant of and easily inflamed by bad bullpen management. Just as I’ve written piece after piece after piece about this broken part of the game, Sheehan has done the same many times over in his much higher-profile forum. I’m fairly certain that if we were to watch a baseball game together, we’d be able to communicate telepathically from the sixth inning onward.

In addition to sharing my beliefs about bullpen management, Sheehan is one hell of a baseball analyst. He’s wonderful at examining the nuances of player usage and identifying and tracking trends in performance, and he does both with a refreshing balance of conviction and humility. And, once in a while, he comes up with an eerily prescient nugget, much like this one from his October 6th column:

“Phillies fans love my opinions of Ryan Howard, so let’s just reduce the entire discussion to one line: .226/.310/.444 career, .207/.298/.356 in 2009. Jim Tracy has to bring that guy to the plate as often as possible in this series. Any time he allows the other guy, the .307/.409/.661 one, the one who hit .319/.395/.691 this year, to bat in a game-critical situation, he deserves to lose, because that guy is absolutely devastating. It really is that simple. Charlie Manuel isn’t going to take Howard out, so if Tracy elects to give up 450 points of OPS in any situation that matters, he’s just this side of throwing the game.”

The first two sets of numbers are Ryan Howard’s statistics against left-handed pitchers. The next set shows his performance against right-handed pitchers. As you can see, Howard has been pretty abysmal against southpaws since putting on a major league uniform, but this has been particularly true in 2009. These are the numbers (and this is the quote) that were running through my mind over and over again during the top of the ninth inning in last night’s Phillies-Rockies game.

Reviewing The Twins-Yankees Series

I missed college a great deal yesterday. I don’t miss it often; the South and I had a doomed relationship, I never found a subject that fired me up, and wearing a jacket and tie to a football game will never, ever make sense to me. Two out of those three could easily be classified as self-inflicted, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m at peace with my dispassion towards much of my college experience. But if there were ever a day to make me long for a time machine, yesterday would be it.

The magnitude of the day revealed itself slowly. I woke up eminently cognizant of the Yankees game at seven o’clock. I also knew the Giants were playing the Raiders at one. Then, as if the sports schedule were a coloring book and these games were the thick black lines, I slowly filled in the vacant spaces. The Angels were playing the Red Sox at noon. The Broncos and Rockies were playing at four and ten, respectively. I realized there would be twelve consecutive hours of meaningful sports, and that’s precisely when I started to miss my closest friends from college. If the year were 2007 instead of 2009, the five of us would have procured our adult beverages of choice, secured some terribly unhealthy provisions, and embedded ourselves in front of our too-large television for a day of witty banter, obnoxious proclamations, and the rare enlightening debate. That’s what I missed and will continue to miss the most about college: those endless, sports-filled Saturdays and Sundays that gave us a great excuse to do nothing but enjoy each other’s company.

On a less nostalgic note, yesterday also provided the faint but exhilarating possibility of the elusive fivefecta (I couldn’t find anything higher than a superfecta, so I made this up.) The fivefecta is the unassisted triple play of sports fandom, albeit less sudden in its occurence. If the Red Sox lost, the Giants won, the Broncos won (at the Patriots’ expense), the Yankees won, and the Rockies won, October 11th, 2009 would have to be considered one of the all-time great days in personal fan history. Naturally, I decided to monitor this situation very closely, only to see it fall short because of the uncharacteristically effective Brad Lidge. And so it goes.

As you can probably guess, the most important game of the day for me was the Yankees-Twins contest. Because it’s October and my doctor says it’s bad for me to be a statistically-inclined curmudgeon all the game, I decided to watch it the way most fans do: with youthful exuberance, relentless optimism, and with the belief in the unlikely. Valiantly, that approach lasted until the bottom of the eighth inning, when a perpetual pet peeve and occasional blog topic reared its ugly head. I simply could not resist the temptation. I regressed into curmudgeonhood, which I why I’m writing this right now.

Twins Win Despite Gardenhire’s Gaffe

As most people can confirm, one of life’s most unfortunate realities is the inverse relationship between the passage of time and the desirability of an event. When you’re looking so desperately forward to something, time seems to slow to a crawl as that something approaches. It’s why Christmas Eve was the most interminable recurring period of my childhood and why, come November, Spring Training never seems to get any closer. Then there’s the cruel corollary: when you fear and fret over an occasion, it’s upon you in no time at all. It’s why my senior year of college was over before I knew what happened, and why a night’s sleep before an important job interview transpires in the blink of an eye. I’ve come to accept this phenomenon, but I still wish it were different.

Miraculously, yesterday proved to be a merciful exception to this sadistic law. The first thing on my mind in the morning was that evening’s one-game playoff between the Detroit Tigers and the Minnesota Twins, followed closely by the Yankees’ impending matchup against the victor. My morning passed quickly as I lesson-planned and napped. The afternoon followed suit, aided largely by the incredibly cooperative behavior of my students. It was soon 4:30 and time to go home. I rushed home on the 2 train (to whatever extent being at the total mercy of the conductor during rush hour pedestrian traffic can be considered “rushing”), quickly changed clothes, and plopped down on the couch just as the third inning expired. The thing I was looking forward to the most occurred in no time at all. I was spared.

Or so I thought. As you know by now, the Twins defeated the Tigers in a remarkable extra-inning affair. Even though one got the distinct (and totally accurate) impression that these were two mediocre teams playing mediocre baseball, the game was awfully entertaining. Young Rick Porcello pitched very well on the national stage, striking out eight in five and two-thirds innings before being prematurely yanked. Scott Baker rebounded from a rocky start and did his usual command-and-control thing for six strong innings. Then, as many playoff games do, the contest turned into a battle of the bullpens. This is when I learned that you can only evade the cruel fates for so long.