Indicators & Illusions: Matt Cain

Baseball Tonight is just one of several places where the ongoing and somewhat irrelevant antagonism between sabermetrics and scouting is being played out for public consumption.  The fact is, unless you work for a stubborn backwater organization like the Royals or the Astros, you know that the battle has already been won, defiantly, by the sabermetricians.  Successful franchises pay handsomely for a wide variety of statistical metrics, some of their own design, and frequently combine them with economic analysis in an effort to directly link player performance and profit.

Sabermetrics are so in fashion that the heroes of their rise to power, guys like Bill James and Rob Neyer, now find themselves in the unusual position of frequently reminding their neophyte followers that there is actually a human element to the game (an x-factor) that cannot ever be fully accounted for, but must be recognized.  You cannot purely play the numbers.

For instance, Neyer recently discussed the "closer by committee" situation in Minnesota.  The role of relievers has long be a subject of debate for sabermetricians, many of whom believe, with good cause, that your best reliever should not necessarily be reserved for the ninth, and that the best approach to the late innings to to play match-ups and not identify roles like closer, set-up man, LOOGY, long-man, etc.

However, while excellent in theory, the "closer by committee" hasn't really caught on because the few teams that have tried it haven't had much success.  James recently switched his stance on the issue largely due to the "x-factor," recognizing that having a defined role allowed relievers to prepare physically and psychologically for the moment they took the mound, a routine which was critical to having consistent success.

Whether the connection is accurate or not, sabermetric analysic continues to be linked to fantasy baseball.  There is, apparently, a geek quotient that makes them natural bedfellows.  Thus, the Luddites like to accuse sabermetricians of following fake baseball.  Again, however, as men like Trace Wood and Jason Gray have long argued, the numbers cannot exist in a vacuum and they work best when they are used to ratify observations made during actual games.  Anybody who follows political debates know that statistics can be used to mislead.  Though the intent isn't as devious, the same is true in arguments about baseball.  Here is but one example of conflicting statistical indicators this spring.

Matt Cain had a fantasic, some might say "breakout" season in 2009, winning fourteen games and posting at 2.89 ERA at 24-years-old.  The basic stats, combined with his age, would make him appear to be a pitcher who should be considered among the ten or fifteen best in baseball, with the potential to develop into a perennial Cy Young candidate.

However, experts consistently rank Cain outside the top twenty among starting pitchers, behind guys like Ricky Nolasco and Scott Baker, players who are older and have never had a season rivaling what Cain did in '09.  They justify their rankings by pointing to a rising home-run rate (from 0.79/9 to 0.91), a declining strikeout rate (from 7.69/9 to 7.07) and a uncharacteristically low BABIP (.268 compared to .278 for his career).

Anybody who watched Cain consistently in 2009 would be very surprised by (in fact, would probably disbelieve) these suggestion that he was somehow becoming less dominant instead of more dominant as he moved into his mid-twenties.  Counting myself among them, I entirely agree.

Cain slightly altered his pitching philosophy in 2009.  Although still capable of getting strikeouts when the situation demanded it, Cain was far more content to pitch to contact.  The effort, I expect, was prompted largely by his desire to pitch deeper into games and factor into more decisions.  In '07 and '08 Cain had been profoundly unlucky, posting a 15-30 record over the course of those two seasons, despite the fact that his ERA (3.71), WHIP (1.31), and strikeout rate were all significantly better than the league averages.

Cain had an obvious and much-publicized run support problem, but also worked himself very hard, making it difficult for him to pitch deep into games, as is expected of a true Ace.  In 2008, Cain completed seven innings in less than half of his starts and pitched into the eighth on only five occasions.    Compare that to his teammate and Cy Young winner Tim Lincecum, who finished the seventh 60% of the time and pitched into the eighth 30% of the time, and you can understand how Lincecum won eleven more games, despite be saddled with the same poor offense.

In 2009, Cain made eighteen starts that lasted seven innings or longer, including a league-leading four complete games (as many complete games, by the way, as he had in previous four seasons combined).  He pitched into the eighth inning 25% of the time.  We can see, statistically, what made this possible.  Cain's walk rate went from 3.76/9 to 3.02.  The percentage of groundballs he induced went from 33.2% to 38.9%.

Cain's commitment to keeping the ball in the strike zone naturally led to more contact and thus more long balls and less strikeouts, but it also made for a lot more easy innings.  Conveniently for our analysis, Cain threw exactly the same number of innings in '08 and '09 (217 2/3), but in '09 he did it with one less start and more importantly with almost 250 fewer pitches, facing 47 fewer hitters (which explains his career best WHIP).  That's essentially two games less wear and tear on his young arm.

It wouldn't surprise me terribly if Cain returned to a more normal BABIP (~.280-.285) in 2010 and thus saw a slight regression in ERA.  However, it also wouldn't surprise me if he intensified his commitment to the philosophy that served him so well in '09 and saw a further reduction in walks and an increase in innings and wins, cementing him as one of the National League's elite pitchers.

The Juiced Hall Era

I was certainly thrilled that Andre Dawson was elected to the baseball Hall of Fame earlier this week, but I was also disappointed to learn that he will be the only member of the 2010 class. Obviously, there are a wide range of opinions among the membership of the BBWAA on what exactly it means to be a Hall of Famer and what exactly the role of the Hall of Fame is, and they are certainly entitled to that debate, since effective ground rules have never been laid out.

Bill James' The Politics of Glory outlines the Hall's humble origins, it's numerous oddities, and its torturous electoral process.  It is a must-read, even for people who aren't generally of the sabermetric persuasion.  Even though I don't fully agree with all of James' arguments, I appreciate that men like himself and Rob Neyer have thoughtful, well-reasoned explanations of what they expect the Hall to represent. Many other pundits (many of them BBWAA voters) are irrational and schizophrenic on the subject.  Sportswriters are prone to prejudice, ignorance, and hubris on many topics, but perhaps none more blatantly provokes these qualities than questions about the Hall of Fame ballot.

Personally, I just can't understand Cooperstown as anything except an archive and a museum.  I honestly don't imagine what other role it is supposed to play.  As such, I don't see the problem with inclusivity.  I have extraordinary liberal standards.  On this particular ballot, I would've supported the candidacies of fourteen players: Dawson, Roberto Alomar, Tim Raines, Barry Larkin, Alan Trammell, Mark McGwire, Edgar Martinez, Burt Blyleven, Lee Smith, Jack Morris, Dave Parker, Dale Murphy, Don Mattingly, and Fred McGriff.  And there are many other players who I believe are too important to a rich baseball education to be excluded from an institution whose primary purpose would appear to be assisting such an education: Dick Allen and Curt Flood, for starters.  What I'm looking for from the Hall of Fame is a relatively complete picture of the various eras of baseball history and I think each of these men are appropriate to a portrait which is vivid and engaging.

I don't think baseball fans are as ignorant at the writers think we are. Just because Jack Morris is in the Hall of Fame, that doesn't mean he will be forever remembered as equal to Bob Gibson or Sandy Koufax.  When writers argue that enshrining a player like Dawson or Blyleven or McGriff might somehow "dilute" the Hall of Fame and diminish the accomplishments of its other members I am appalled.  It portrays egotism and misanthropy, suggesting such writers think everybody else too stupid to make subtle qualitative distinctions.

On the contrary, I believe the Hall of Fame's institutional role should go well beyond increasing the appreciation of "first-ballot" players like Gibson, Koufax, Ruth, and Mays, men whose legends and contributions need very little help remaining in the public eye.  I think it would be wonderful to have a place where people can also learn about players (and other baseball personnel) who haven't been as broadly canonized, but are nonetheless fascinating and inspirational figures. I can't help but ask, "Why not?"  What possible disservice would be done by having a Dave Parker plaque in Cooperstown?  Parker's career was fully of incredible accomplishments and is also defined by a number of curious, humorous, and instructive anecdotes.

A Hall of Fame which successfully rendered an objective and productive history of America's pastime would have to be an independent institution. Bud Selig (and subsequent commissioners) should not have the power to govern the Hall, nor should there be any criteria which makes a player ineligible for entry.   The more the Hall relies upon MLB or the BBWAA, the more it loses credibility and becomes a largely inconsequential syphon for advertising and propaganda.  A truly comprehensive baseball history naturally includes the careers of Pete Rose, Joe Jackson, and Mark McGwire. To argue otherwise is grossly incompetent.  The Hall of Fame won't be a truly legitimate institution until such players are included.

However, I also believe the players should have no say in how they are represented in Cooperstown. Those actions which sullied the reputations of the men listed above are as much a part of baseball history as their achievements on the field. So, yes, Mark McGwire should be in the Hall of Fame...but his plaque will "talk about the past."

Frankly, McGwire's treatment by voters thusfar suggests we are headed down a slippery slope. How do they propose to distinguish which "juiced" players get in and which ones don't.  McGwire's example is a dangerous one especially because he was never suspended for drug abuse or convicted of anything.  Everything we know about his pharmaceutical exploits is circumstantial.  Much the same can be said of Clemens, Bonds, A-Rod, and many of the other so-called "juicers."  The subjectivity of this process endangers the credibility of the institution.  What happens if Clemens is elected, but Bonds is not, or vice versa.

It is possible that ten years from now we will have a Hall of Fame that more or less omits two decades of baseball history and does not include baseball's all-time hits leader (Rose) or baseball's all-time home-run leaders (Barry Bonds and Alex Rodriguez), not to mention other players of extraordinary accomplishment like McGwire, Clemens, Manny Ramirez, Sammy Sosa, etc.

People go to the Hall of Fame largely to embrace their own nostalgia and share a part of those memories with their children. Many men and women who grew up during the "Juiced Ball" era would have very little use for a museum which ignores the existence of those players who most defined their youth. Keeping them out of the Hall of Fame is a fascistic re-writing of history. What must happen, eventually, is that baseball must enshrine the best players of that era, but they must do so without ignoring the ethical questions which also dominated the decade.

What makes a museum different from an amusement park is that it is expected to elicit not only joy, but also curiosity.  When a parent takes a child, they expect not only to entertain them, but also to educate and intrigue.  In such situations, it is imperative that the child see beyond the heroizing phenomenon of athletic celebrity.  Baseball is a wonderful way of exploring American cultural history, and that history much include discussions of addiction, exploitation, prejudice, and even defeat.  Manny's suspension is a part baseball's historical record, as is the Mitchell Report, the Bonds indictment, the Congressional hearings, the BALCO investigation, etc. To pretend otherwise merely compromises your credibility.