Not Keepers

Break up the band! The streak is over!

No, seriously...

Everyone is so bent out of shape over the Marlins' hot start. Indeed, so hot has Florida been that ESPN.com has named them the #1 team in baseball in their Power Rankings. Well, The Common Man is not fooled. Before the season started, The Common Man had them pegged as a .500 squad, and this streak they've been on (until last night, when they were squelched 8-0 by the intimidating arm of Ross Ohlendorf (and his career 5.96 ERA).

Sure, as his good friend Bill has pointed out, they've earned their success (though Bill puts the kabosh on that pretty fast. They lead the National League in scoring, and are third in runs allowed, per game. The much bally-hooed (and completely unsustainable) start by Emilio Bonafacio (.321/.345/.434), the resurgence of Jeremy Hermida (.300/.451/.600), the rise of C John Baker (.333/.421/.545), and the hot start of Jorge Cantu (.368/.442/.605)are driving the engine, while the bullpen has shined in supporting what has mostly been a good 4 man rotation thusfar.

But come on, Marlin fans. Can you really put any faith in a team that lost to Livan Hernandez? That couldn't figure out Ross Ohlendorf? That has bolstered their record by beating Washington six times? Is that really an accomplishment? At this point, it's like beating up Milhouse after he thinks his parents have died. They've lost all hope, are numb, and welcome the beating so that maybe, just maybe, they will feel something.

At this point, The Common Man is forced to admit that it's likely the Fish will end up above .500. Their rotation is fairly solid, and perhaps they have found a decent mix of retreads in their bullpen (which the aforementioned Nationals are drooling over). Hermida's probably a good player, and Uggla is going to get better, as will Cameron Maybin (he has to, or he'll be replaced by someone who is). And Hanley Ramirez has yet to get on track. But every other hitter is likely to regress severely and the Fish will eventually be forced soon to give Andrew Miller his turn every fifth day (and as they have found out for the last year or so, that's bound to get ugly). And by the end of the season, that #1 finish after week two is going to look awfully silly (especially after Uggla and Cantu are unloaded at midseason).


Then again, maybe The Common Man won't complain. It beats the hell out of everyone talking Yankees and Red Sox.

Seeking Second Cys

Lar, at Wezen-ball, had an interesting exercise going today, looking to find seasons where hall of famers swept the major post-season awards. Lar identified three seasons, all pre-1967 (which is when the writers began awarding the Cy Young in each league), where three Hall of Famers dominated the categories. But that didn't seem fair. After all, the writers only had hit on three awards those years, rather than the four from '67 on. The Common Man was responding on this topic in the comments section of Lar's piece, extrapolating on his idea, and wouldn't you know, it turned into a post in its own right:

I like this exercise a lot, Lar. Going back to your data, I looked at those '57, '59, and '66 seasons where HOFers swept the awards, and thought about awarding a second Cy Young and seeing what would happen.

1957: I gotta think the AL award goes to Jim Bunning, who led the league in IP, tied for the lead in Wins, 2nd in strikeouts, and 3rd in ERA in his first big season. That would give you a clean sweep.

1959: This year probably comes down to one of three guys in the NL. Warren Spahn led the league in IP (292), tied for the lead in wins, and finished 3rd in ERA. But Sad Sam Jones also pitched 270 innings that year, winning the same number, and won the ERA crown outright while finishing 2nd in strikeouts. Finally, Elroy Face won 18 games out of the bullpen, against just 1 loss, and finished 7th in the MVP race. So it's not clear that you'd get a sweep there.

1966: This is, by far, the most interesting (to me anyway), as the AL winner almost certainly would have been Jimmie Kaat of the Twins. Kittie threw 304 innings in 41 starts that year (both led the league), and won 25 games (five more than runner-up Denny McLain). He also was 6th in the AL in ERA. Gary Peters, of the White Sox, finished with an ERA under 2.00, but only won 12 games and pitched a third fewer innings. On its surface, this doesn't seem to get you your sweep; but I've got to wonder if having a Cy Young award in his cabinet would have put Kaat over the top with the voters.

Thoughts? Feel free to vote in the poll at the right.

Random Thursday: 1882 Cincinnati Red Stockings

This vow is what you get from The Common Man: No matter how crazy things get, we will always have Thursdays. The Common Man likes Thursdays and never really know what he's going to talk about from week to week. So that sticks around. The Common Man will do what he can with the rest. In the meantime, you should definitely be checking out friend of the blog, frequent commenter, occasional guest poster, and all-around-good-guy Bill, who has started his own site, The Daily Something. In particular, The Common Man recommends you find out why Jackie Robinson = The Pledge of Allegiance.

Lady Luck suspiciously landed on another 19th century team this week, perhaps her way of telling The Common Man he needs to finally finish Bryan Di Salvatore's vivid and excellent biography of John Montgomery Ward and get a review up. Anyway, this week's randomness crash-landed on the 1882 Cincinnati Red Stockings of the oft-forgotten American Association. 1882 marked the first season for the appropriately-acronymed AA (as it was considered the "beer and whiskey league" since the National League was prudishly dry), and the Reds were the class of it. Cincy won the league crown going away, with a 55-25 record and an 11.5 game lead over the second place Philadelphia team by the end of it. The Cincinnati squad was comprised of leftover players from the National League's Cincinnati Reds (who had folded in 1880), as well as a few players who jumped directly from the NL (most notably Pop Snyder). They also came up with second baseman Bid McPhee, who was a 22 year old rookie to Major League ball, and who would go on to have a Hall of Fame career.

The American Association itself was formed by owners who were rebuffed by William Hulbert and his powerful and insular National League, owners who wanted a taste of the big league life and noticed plenty of cities where the NL was absent. Indeed, the National League, in 1882, was ensconced in Chicago, Boston, Cleveland and Detroit, but also had clubs in Buffalo, Providence (R.I.), Troy (N.Y.), and Worschester. Sensing an opportunity, the AA owners moved into recently vacated Cincinnati, Philadelphia, Louisville, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, and Baltimore, and promptly began outdrawing the NL clubs.

Also, as Di Salvatore writes, the NL had not positioned itself to properly appeal to the masses:

"League magnates had embarked on a deliberate course to woo the 'respectable' middle class--most notably by instituting the $.50 grandstand fee, refusing to play Sunday games [usually the only day working class fans would have off from work]..., and banning alcohol sales. The League, then--by effectively excluding much of the working class--severely circumscribed the potential size of its daily gate."

This was another disadvantage the AA sought to exploit. Their admission was half that of the Nationals, and they recouped their expenses by selling beer in the stands, and adding Sunday games to the schedule.

Feeling the pinch, the NL chose to directly compete with their new rivals. When the AA moved into Columbus, OH and New York City, the NL countered by moving Worchester to Philadelphia (where they would become first the Quakers, then the Phillies) and Troy to New York (where they would eventually become the Giants). By promoting a better brand of baseball (the teams in the AA were still of relatively poor quality; terrible players from the NL could be above average, or even stars in the AA), the NL managed to hold its own until the two leagues declared peace in late 1883.

The AA promised to steer clear of the NL in the future, swelling dramatically into Toledo, Richmond, Brooklyn, Washington, and Indianapolis for a season before contracting back down to 8 teams until 1890, when everything started to unravel. The renegade Players League, led by the aforementioned John Montgomery Ward, formed in response to the reserve clause and essentially picked apart the AA in an attempt to compete with the stronger NL. Faced with this new threat, the AA rebuffed a peace offering from Ward and sided with the NL. Smelling blood in the water, according to Di Salvatore,

"Not only did the PL begin raiding the Association roster with waning reluctance--eventually picking up thirty or so of its players--but the NL dumped two of its own least viable franchises, Washington and Indianapolis, and successfully wooed two fo the Association's most powerful franchises, Brooklyn and Cincinnati, to its camp. The disheartened Association made the best of a bad situation...and gathered up a hatful of embarrassing new franchises in second-tier cities such as Toledo, Rochester, and Syracuse."

The Players League folded after just one season, but the American Association was too financially weak to continue. After an embarrassing 1891 season during which two teams folded (including the Milwaukee Brewers after just 36 games), the AA gave up. The four strongest teams, Louisville, St. Louis, Baltimore, and Washington were absorbed by the NL (now 12 teams), and the rest of the teams disbanded.

The American Association's existence was relatively long as far as startup challenges go. It outlasted the Players League, the Union League, and the Federal League, all of whom challenged the Major League structure. But the AA had significant advantages. The NL may have been a big league, but it still was not thinking like a business. It was wasteful and did not take advantage of opportunities to solidify its fan base and broaden its appeal. And the NL was the only real game in town at the time, whereas other startups have had to contend with two other competitor leagues. Its quick peace with the NL in 1883 was formed on the promise that the two leagues would stop raiding each others' rosters and competing for talent. This left the NL with a talent advantage it would continue to exploit throughout the AA's advantage. And when faced with an opportunity to join forces with the players and get the talent influx that may have saved it, the AA refused and stood with the NL. And because of this, it eventually crumbled and faded into sepia-toned memory, memories that too may soon crumble away into nothing.

You wouldn't like me...

So freaking angry:


With Brendan Harris on third and no one out (Harris had doubled and taken third on a wild pitch) Sean Camp makes Delmon Young, Joe Crede, and Nick Punto look silly, striking out all three of them. Seriously, you can't put one freaking ball in play? With a two-run lead, the infield is playing back. Just tap the freaking ball somewhere. That run has to score! What the hell is wrong with you? Just stop. Stop playing baseball. Turn in your damn uniforms. Pick up your last paycheck on the way out the door. The Common Man doesn't blame Punto quite as much (though that third strike you took was right down the middle); after Young and Crede's utter failure, his options were extremely limited. But not a single one of you can even PUT THE BAT ON THE GODDAM BALL? WHAT FREAKING GOOD ARE YOU? You are not helping. Just go home.

And while you're at it, take Ron Gardenhire and his baffling pitcher usage with you. Kevin Slowey, as astute reader Bill pointed out in an email tonight, had given up 11 hits through 5 innings. It was clear he didn't have it this time around. Yet Gardy brought him out to start the 6th. A single, an Overbay homer, a groundout, and a walk later, Slowey gave way to Matt Guerrier, clinging to a two run lead. Meanwhile, the Twins maddening use and non-use of Joe Nathan continues. After 8 games, Nathan has gotten into just two games, only one of which was a save situation and the other designed to just get him some work. Meanwhile, Gardy refuses to use his ace reliever to keep the game close or to hold onto a slim lead in the 8th. And tonight it came back to bite him, as Luis Ayala delivered yet another in a ridiculously poor string of performances. Nathan was relegated to the bench as Ayala surrendered a double to Rod Barajas and a homer to Travis Snider, giving the Jays the two-run lead they would never surrender. At this point, the fact that Gardenhire keeps running Ayala out day after day after day (Ayala's gotten into 5 of the 8 game thusfar) seems to indicate that the Twins' manager wants to punish Twins fans for something. Ayala's gone 5 innings, giving up 10 hits and four runs. He's pitched poorly in three of the five games, only showing any kind of effectiveness in games where the Twins are way behind. As the shiny new veteran toy, perhaps Gardenhire and GM Bill Smith couldn't help but give Ayala the job of trying to ruin the Twins season, like so many dead-weight veterans before him.

And The Common Man is still angry and sad about the death of pitcher Nick Adenhart. The Common Man has nothing really to add to the chorus of laments for young talent lost. Adenhart was a promising young pitcher, and had a long and hopefully productive life ahead of him when he and his friends were killed by a drunk driver. In trying to make sense of the senseless, The Common Man can't help but feel that Adenhart is a reminder of our own mortality, that no matter how high we climb, nothing is guaranteed, that nothing has been promised to us, and that what we say and do always matter because they may be the last things we say or do.

And speaking of sudden and shocking ends, the twin deaths of Phillies broadcasting legend Harry Kalas and '70s pitching phenom and icon Mark Fidrych came out of nowhere today to sadden the baseball community further. Two great characters who were responsible for creating thousands of fans today passed away in manners most befitting the way in which they lived. Kalas collapsed in his broadcast booth today, preparing for the Phillies/Nationals game. Counting post-season games, this would have been somewhere around the 6900th game of Kalas' major league broadcasting career. Since, for so many, that's where Kalas lived, it's both sad and satisfying that he went to rest there. As perfectly serene and calm as Kalas' end seems, Fidrych's death was just as odd and quirky, but no less appropriate. Like The Bird himself, who stomped around the mound, talked to baseballs, and entertained fans with his wild hair and endless tics, Fidrych's end was quick and, frankly, crazy. While the death itself was undoubtedly horrible (and The Common Man prays it was quick), perhaps there was no other way for a man of The Bird's eccentricities to go out than "crushed by a dump truck." If nothing else, it adds to the legend. And their sad ends remind us of why we loved them so much in the first place. God bless boys.

Random Thursday: 1876 Louisville Grays

First, The Common Man is sorry to have been away. He’s trying as the new job ramps up to balance everything. Don’t write him off just yet, as he’ll strike a balance yet. But he was bound and determined not to miss his beloved randomness. And for his efforts, The Common Man was rewarded by the new format over at BaseballReference.com. It’s…um…interesting. The sheer volume of information available there has increased dramatically and both that volume and the new look are going to take some getting used to. The Common Man is pretty sure he’s going to like it eventually, but it will be a while before he’s completely comfortable.

Meanwhile, the Random function is still active and available and sent The Common Man hurtling back to the 19th century and the 1876 Louisville Grays team page. Astute baseball historians’ ears just pricked up for three reasons. One, 1876 is of course the first year of the NL’s existence. That year, the Grays finished 30-36, landing in the second division, 22 games behind the NL Champion Chicago White Stockings. Two, the Grays of the 1870s were notorious for throwing ballgames. They actually got started in 1876, as George Bechtel attempted to conspire with Louisville ace Jim Devlin to throw a game for $100. Devlin showed his manager the telegram and Bechtel became the first player permanently banned from the league. And, ironically, three is Devlin himself, who conspired with his teammates in 1877 to throw the pennant race. Devlin and team captain and 1876 home run champ George Hall led the effort in ’77, allegedly inspired by poor pay and harsh mistreatment by their team’s owner.

Jim Baker, in the Bill James New Historical Baseball Abstract, wrote, “with a quarter of the season to go (fifteen games), the Grays needed to win only half their remaining games to clinch the flag…. With the pennant seemingly assured, the Grays began dropping games due to a variety of ‘bonehead’ plays; strikeouts, pick-offs, and costly errors abounded…. At the conclusion of the season a Louisville paper, the Courier Journal, made accusations that the team had gone in the tank. The primary culprit was alleged to be Jim Devlin, who was now, according to some reports, sporting a variety of fancy jewelry.”

At the time he was banned, at age 28, Devlin was considered one of the top pitchers in the league. He had led the NL in games pitched, innings, and complete games (127 out of 129). He also won 30 and 35 games those seasons (though he led the league each year with 35 and 25 losses respectively). By all accounts, he was the Grays. Hall had an excellent OPS+ of 133, but the Louisville nine didn’t feature any other hitters who were significantly above average. In fact, three of their players finished with an OPS+ in the 70s (that said, the team did finish with the highest fielding percentage and fewest errors in the league, a significant accomplishment given that the league averaged almost 11.8 per game).

With Devlin, Hall, SS Bill Craver (71 OPS+, but probably the second or third best defensive SS in the league behind Davy Force and perhaps John Peters), and reserve Al Nichols all banned from the game, the Grays folded after the season. Six of their position players were 25 or under. Hall was only 28. So was Devlin. Assuming Devlin’s arm could have held up for a couple more years, the Grays could have built the league’s first dynasty, before the White Stockings’ great run of the 1880s. It would be another fifteen years before Louisville would get another National League franchise (which would never finish higher than ninth in a twelve team league).

Devlin pleaded his case repeatedly to the National League owners, trying to get reinstated. He wrote to Hall of Famer and league paragon Harry Wright, “I Can assure you Harry that I was not Treated right and if Ever I can see you to tell you the Case you will say I am not to blame I am living from hand to mouth all winter I have not got a Stich of Clothing or has my wife and Child…. The Louisville People have made me what I am to day a Beggar. [sic]” Devlin died in 1884 in Philadelphia, working as a cop but still mostly broke, from consumption complicated by severe alcoholism. From what The Common Man read, it’s not clear whether Devlin’s accusations against his former owner, the league president, and the people of Louisville are at all justified. Ball players tended to make more than average wage-earners at that point, and Devlin was clearly a star. And he likely could have jumped to a minor league club at a much higher salary if he was being underpaid by the Grays. The Common Man hasn’t gotten to it yet, but those wanting more info on 19th century baseball, Devlin, and the 1877 scandal in general should probably check out William A. Cook’s boringly titled, The Louisville Grays Scandal of 1877: The Taint of Gambling at the Dawn of the National League. An exerpt is here.

The Joba Project

At various places around teh interwebz today and yesterday, you probably have heard about Wallace Mathews being dumb. These people, who are flaying Matthews and his argument alive as The Common Man types this, are entirely right. Matthews is either a cynical writer making a disingenuous argument solely designed to generate buzz, an idiot, or both. The Common Man’s favorite part of Matthews’ column comes when he laments, “Greater baseball minds than mine have analyzed this situation at great length and determined that Joba for the first six innings every five days is better than Joba out of the bullpen five times a week."

As The Common Man has noted elsewhere, this is hilarious. If Chamberlain pitched five times a week, he would end up with somewhere around 135 appearances. This is obviously not an ideal usage pattern for a 23 year old coming off an arm injury. But again, that’s painfully obvious, and no right-thinking GM (let alone sportswriter) would actually advocate something so ridiculous.

So The Common Man refuses to use his lunch hour to continue excoriating Matthews. Instead, he wants to indulge the man’s fantasy. Indeed, if by some miracle Joba was able to pitch 135 games with little to no additional risk to his long-term health, wouldn’t this be an incredibly efficient use of his talents? Wouldn’t this usage pattern, in which Chamberlain pitches a high number of innings in extremely high-leverage situations, make it worth the Yankees while to scrap their plans to put Joba in the rotation? And if, against all logic, Joba managed to survive a season in this role, what would his stats look like? The Common Man thought it would be fun to do a small extrapolation.


In a little more than a season at the big league level, Joba Chamberlain has appeared in 61 games, and started 12 of them. Since he won’t be used in a starting role, we’ll scrap his stats from those games. After all, we want a realistic approximation of how Chamberlain would throw on a day-to-day (-to-day-to-day-to-day) basis. His stats in relief are eye-popping. In 49 appearances, Job has thrown 59 innings, given up 39 hits, 20 walks, 2 homers, and 10 earned runs. Batters have “hit” .185/.259/.261 off of him, and struck out 78 times.

Amazingly, on one or two days rest, Joba has been even more dominant, pitching 34.7 innings (in 28 appearances), giving up 18 hits, 2 runs, 6 BB, and striking out 45. But since we want to keep this relatively uncomplicated (this is a quick and dirty look at something that would never ever happen, after all), let’s just take his overall numbers. Just be aware that, to maintain the pace necessary to pitch 135 times, Joba would be limited to 1-2 days rest much of the time (and zero days rest as well).

OK, so in 49 games, Joba has thrown 59 innings, or 1.2 IP/appearance. If he kept up a similar pace, Joba would have approximately 162 innings pitched by the end of the season (hey, he’d qualify for the ERA title!). Assuming his hits/9, BB/9, HR/9, and K/9 stayed constant (though that’s obviously not likely, given how often he’d be pitching), here’s an approximation of what Joba’s pitching line might look like:

G 135		IP 162	H 107	ER 27	BB 55	K 214	HR 5	W ??	L ??	ERA 1.50

How many games would Joba win in this scenario? Could he win 20? And what would the result be on the ERAs of the Yankees’ other staff members? Presumably, having Joba around as a dominant security blanket would allow them to throw fewer innings, meaning they’d get into less trouble at the end of their outings. If this were possible, wouldn’t this be the perfect deployment for a pitcher of Joba’s dominant abilities? Perhaps some enterprising whipper-snapper could look into the effect that noted workhorses Mike Marshall, Kent Tekulve, and others had on their team’s performance, both directly and indirectly.

The Common Man would be legitimately excited by this prospect. Of course, reality would set in around mid-May when, after enduring 2-3 weeks of decreased effectiveness, the Yankees shut down Joba with a sore elbow, which would turn into a torn ligament as he rehabs it. But still, The Common Man can dream, can’t he? Or at least, Wallace Matthews can.

Random Thursday: 2006 Boston Red Sox

Talk about random. This week's punch of the old randomizer brought up a page with almost nothing on it, the 2006 Franchise Pitching Stats and Depth Charts page for the 2006 Boston Red Sox. Looking back, especially in light of their World Championship a year later, it's easy to forget 2006. As this page shows (indeed, it shows little else), the Sox were decidedly mediocre in 2006. Their Pythagorean record a measly 81-81 (go ahead, salivate Pirates fans), and their overall record was 86-76. In fact, 2006 is the only year in GM Theo Epstein's impressive run at Boston's helm (since 2003), that the Sox finished with fewer than 95 wins.

So what happened in 2006? As many of you undoubtedly remember, following the 2005 season there was trouble over Epstein's contract. As an October 31 deadline crept closer, internal bickering became public fodder (thanks to Dan Shaughnessy), and the team was thrown into chaos. Apparently unsure he wanted to put up with the drama, Epstein snuck out that night (reportedly in a gorilla suit, using the Halloween holiday to his advantage) without a new contract. Indeed, Halloween couldn't have gotten any scarier for Sox fans.

In Epstein's absence, Jed Hoyer and Ben Charington were promoted to co-General Managers, and tried to keep the ship afloat. They traded Hanley Ramirez and Anibal Sanchez (and change) to the Marlins for Josh Beckett, Mike Lowell, and Guillermo Mota. The used Edgar Renteria to pry Andy Marte away from the Braves (then considered a coup). They sent Doug Mirabelli to the Padres for Mark Loretta. And they signed Rudy Seanez, JT Snow, and Julian Tavarez. So it's hard to say that the Sox cooled their heels while their front office situation shook itself out, but it's clear that the timing of the decision proved troublesome for the Red Sox, a team in transition.

Indeed, just before Epstein walked away, the team's starting 1B (Millar), 3B (Mueller), and CF (Damon) all filed for free agency. They filled 3B by default in acquiring Lowell (whose presence almost killed the trade from Boston's end). But they opened up SS by dealing away Renteria. And the team's pitching staff (even with Beckett) seemed to lack the front-end talent that would allow it to keep up with the Yankees. And by the time Epstein came back on January 19th, the Sox had already missed out on Damon, Mueller, Millar, Billy Wagner, BJ Ryan, Paul Konerko, Brian Giles, Tom Gordon, Paul Byrd, Bob Wickman, Trevor Hoffman, AJ Burnett, Roberto Hernandez, Rafael Furcal, Kenny Lofton, and Todd Jones, all of whom would have to be considered the top of that year's free agent class. In fact, the only significant free agents to sign after Epstein return were Frank Thomas, Mike Piazza, Bengie Molina, and Jeff Weaver (three of whom played positions at which the Sox were already set and one of whom wouldn't have been good enough to crack an already flawed rotation).

With the available talent dwindling, Epstein moved to plug holes, signing Alex Gonzalez to play SS, and trading Marte, Mota, and C Kelly Shoppach to the Indians for Coco Crisp, David Riske, and Josh Bard. Then they dealt starter Bronson Arroyo to the Reds for Wily Mo Pena (in a deal that still doesn't make much sense). The fact that Epstein quickly moved players like Mota and Marte out suggests that his moves were somewhat panicked, focused on short-term fixes to undo some of the damage caused by an inactive and inattentive winter. Like getting your cabin in livable condition after leaving it fallow all winter (or three winters, as The Common Man found out last year).

And the results were predictable. Gonzalez flopped at short. Crisp underwhelmed in center. Wily Mo turned out to be an ill-conceived get. Riske was quickly dealt for a lefty arm in the pen. Bard was unloaded when Epstein decided he wanted his old backup back. In all, it was a lost year for the Sox, who would of course bounce back to win it all the next year (following some off-season brilliance by Epstein). Meanwhile, 2006 serves a a warning of the perils of a leadership vacuum, and of the importance of having a strong plan in place going into the offseason. As the new season looms, it will be interesting to see just whose off-season leadership has served them best.