27

The New York Yankees are your 2009 World Series Champions.

I’ll be back with much more much later (a close friend from college will be in town through Sunday). But for now, I can’t tell you how happy I am for Alex Rodriguez and Hideki Matsui. Rodriguez… well, we all know what he’s been through, and if you’ve read this space regularly, you know how much I think it was undeserved. He’s an all-time great, he works hard, and he clearly cares (too much, it sometimes appears). Of course, he made a mistake, but the criticism he received (like most steroid-entangled players) was not proportionate to the transgression. Why no one likes the guy, I’ll never understand. I’m thrilled he dispensed with the idea that he’s a team-killer, a choker, and a loser. Good for him.

It seems less and less likely that Hideki Matsui will be on the 2010 Yankees. Even for a cold-hearted crank who sees players as little more than a series of statistics and probabilities (this is 45% true), Matsui’s probable departure tugs at the heartstrings. He was never the best player on the Yankees, never quite lived up to the ridiculous “Godzilla!” hype, but the guy did nothing but hit for seven seasons. He continued that trend in the World Series, hitting .615/.643/1.385 and winning the series MVP. What a way to go out.

Until next time, when you’ll learn more about my hair than you ever wanted to know.

Bad A.J.

As much as I’d love to pin the blame on bad management or shoddy umpiring, there’s nothing else I can really say about this one – Bad A.J. showed up. Burnett had his worst start of the season, “lasting” two innings and allowing six runs. His performance was bolstered (and not in a good way) by the efforts of reliever Phil Coke, who allowed two home runs to two of the three lefties he was brought in to face. It’s hard to score six runs and lose the game, but that’s what happened to the Yankees.

I can’t leave, however, without complaining about at least one thing. The A.J. Burnett-Jose Molina tandem has worked to the tune of a 5.27 ERA this postseason. It’s sort of irrelevant at this point, because Burnett will not be making another start, but it’s worth mentioning. It’s worth mentioning because of the ridiculous idea that Molina’s presence improves Burnett’s performance enough to overcome the crippling effect of Molina’s bat in the lineup. It doesn’t. Next year, put Posada back there (warts and all), and hope for the best.

 

One Win Away

And much of it can be attributed to Chokey McChokeartist himself, Alex Rodriguez. Here’s to Good A.J. tonight.

“If We’re Nice, We’ll Let It Go Six”

On October 26th, Phillies shortstop Jimmy Rollins predicted that his team would beat the Yankees to win the World Series in five games. Ever munificent, Rollins allowed for the possibility that the series could go six games, but the result would remain the same: a second World Series victory in as many years for the Phillies.

Well, it would appear that Rollins and his teammates were feeling charitable last night, as the Yankees’ 8-5 win ensured that if the Phillies win the World Series, it would be in six or seven games. Generally, I’m not opposed to predictions and other forms of competitive banter. Cincinnati Bengals’ receiver Chad Ochocinco’s checklist is a personal favorite because of its originality and the man’s very real ability to back it up. Rollins’ prediction, however, slightly irked me because of his performance. Rollins hit a miserable .250/.296/.423 in the regular season, making him roughly the 11th-most valuable member of the 2009 Phillies, behind the immortal Carlos Ruiz and barely ahead of Pedro Feliz. Yes, Rollins has a ring and a handful of good seasons to his name, but it must be mentioned that Rollins has been a below-average hitter (97 OPS+) and average-ish fielder (4.9 UZR/150) in his career. Talk is all well and good, but the crank in me believes it should be in proportion to the individual accomplishments of its instigator.

A few remaining thoughts from the game:

• Alex Rodriguez hit a controversial home run and was hit by a couple pitches, bringing his World Series OPS up to .708. Phillies’ slugger Ryan Howard, on the other hand, went 0-for-4 with three strikeouts an a pop-up, making him 2/13 this World Series with nine strikeouts. Trust me when I say that using World Series OPS to make a point makes me want to throw myself off a bridge, but I have to ask: Will we see a national columnist write about Howard’s inability to handle the pressure? Will people question his fortitude and focus? In short, will he (or Mark Teixeira, he of the .607 postseason OPS) get the Alex Rodriguez treatment? No, they will not, because people like Howard and Teixeira, and Rodriguez (for whatever reason) rubs people the wrong way. I know I should get over this double standard, but I simply refuse to.

• For much of the evening, Andy Pettitte drove me nuts. I watched him hold the top of the Phillies’ order to 1/15 with one walk and five strikeouts (Chase Utley twice and Ryan Howard three times). Then I watched him allow the bottom of their order to go 3/11, including a double to Pedro Feliz (.308 OBP), two walks to Carlos Ruiz, and a bunt single to pitcher Cole Hamels. Having slept on it, I’m not longer flustered by Pettitte’s performance. While the two homers to Jayson Werth here tough to swallow, Pettitte did fantastic work against most of the Phillies’ toughest hitters. Holding Utley, Howard, and Raul Ibanez hitless with seven strikeouts is awfully difficult to do, but he did it. This is me tipping my cap. Now stop walking bad hitters.

• Try as I might, I simply can’t resist mentioning another bit of stupid (yes, that word is what I mean) bullpen management. Up 8-4 entering the bottom of the ninth inning, Joe Girardi sent out Phil Hughes to finish up the game. I liked the move; Hughes typically sees action in high-leverage situations, but his postseason struggles warranted his use at the start of an inning, with a significant lead, and a clean slate. Hughes retired the first batter he faced on a ground ball. Then, to his absolute discredit, he allowed a home run to Carlos Ruiz. Unfortunately for Hughes and people with brains everywhere, Ruiz’s homer made the game a save situation. And we all know what that means with Mariano Rivera in the bullpen and Girardi in charge. Rivera entered the game, retired the next two batters, and secured the victory. This was just another example of thoughtless, push-button management. If the Yankees don’t have another reliever that can get two outs before surrendering three runs (they have several), their team is hugely flawed. If Girardi doesn’t believe that he has another reliever that can do that, he’s an idiot. With Rivera coming off two innings pitched in Game Two and C.C. Sabathia going on short rest tonight, Girardi should have used literally any reliever but Rivera in that situation (how about, you know, leaving Hughes in there and not messing with his head like that?). The Yankees could very well need Rivera for an extended appearance tonight, and his usage last night might have sunk that possibility.

1-1

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.

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.

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.

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.