Are Rockies Fans Cheated?

Friday we drove two hours, from Scottsdale to Tucson, to see the Giants play the Rockies at Hi Corbett Park. The Giants’ starter was Kevin Pucetas, a command/control righty out of South Carolina’s tiny Limestone College. At 24, he’s never pitched above high-A ball, and I don’t know whether he’s any longer a real prospect. In fact, I recognized only one of the Giant pitchers, Merkin Valdez, who appeared after him, which made me assume all likely major-league pitchers were still back in Scottsdale, working out or just getting a day off. This got me to thinking that perhaps this was typical. The stars aren’t obligated to make the long bus trip to and from Tucson, where only the Rockies and Diamondbacks train. Did Rockies fans ever see Barry Bonds in Tucson?

Who'd a thunk it? Brats were better at Rockies' park than at Brewers'.

As to the game, the Giants won, 7-3, in the tenth inning. (Yes, we’re getting our money’s worth from the Cactus League.) Eugenio Velez, who played center field most of the game, went 3-4 with two extra-base hits, including a two-run triple, although he was picked off second in the top of the tenth for the second out of the inning. Fortunately, by that point, he was only the insurance run.

 

Cactus League Hajj

So my former sister-in-law gave her husband a trip to spring training for his fiftieth birthday. Being selfless, two of his friends (including me) made the sacrifice and joined him on the trip. We’re spending four days seeing four ballgames. I’m going to try to blog occasionally.

The history of spring training is one of ongoing professionalization and standardization, which is a way of saying, “All eccentricities have been stomped out of it.”

In the early days of spring training, teams lacked set destinations. There were no permanent Florida or Arizona complexes. Depending on the year and where the manager felt like spending his spring, teams trained in Mississippi, Louisiana, Arkansas, Catalina Island, California, Cuba.

Today, teams have expensive stadiums waiting for them. There are few holdouts, and with Barry Bonds’s retirement no one who reports late because they can’t be bothered to start on time. But for Dominicans with visa problems, punctuality is the rule. If the training season is used for anything more fun than training, it’s kept on the down low.

One of the reasons teams drifted from location to exotic location in the earliest days of spring training was because managers were looking for ways to control their players, to find the dry spots where a manager might find a drink but a player could not. John McGraw for many years favored Marlin, Texas, because it was unexotic, in the middle of nowhere, and – he hoped – better suited to controlling his players. (In later days, Casey Stengel, one of McGraw’s great managing disciples, solved this problem for himself by telling his players that they weren’t allowed to drink in the hotel bar, because that was where he did his drinking.)

This past Thursday afternoon the Giants were off, so we enjoyed a game at Maryvale Baseball Park in Phoenix. The Brewers hosted the Padres, lots of runs were scored, and we ended in a tie, 10-10, after ten innings. (In spring training, if a game is tied after nine innings, the managers agree to end the game after ten innings, regardless of the score.)

Prince Fielder At Bat

We sat a few rows behind the Padres dugout, amongst some great Brewer fans, knowledgeable about their team and its history. The game was not memorable, but there was a funny moment that we will be telling people about. We’ve encountered the spring training phenomenon of groupies, young women who come to the games, either as fans of a particular young player, or perhaps just to choose a young prospect, much the way Annie chose Nuke in “Bull Durham.” Late in the game, Padres shortstop prospect Sean Kazmar came out onto the on-deck circle as a pinch-hitter.  Now mind you, Sean is a good-looking specimen, better perhaps than his mug shot indicates:

Sean Kazmar, SS

A group of three women in their very early twenties started calling to him from the second row behind the Padres dugout. “Sean! Sean! Over here, Sean! Look at us!” One of the Brewer fans to my right shouted over to them: “Shut up, girls! Don’t distract him; he’s trying to become a millionaire!”

 

Fun With Comparables – Second Basemen

The Giants have a competition of sorts for the second-base position.  Yet, coming off a strong Arizona Fall League showing (.331/.392/.421) that mimicked his career minor-league line (.327/.391/.458), Kevin Frandsen is the favorite to win the second-base job. His first comparable player is Kevin Sefcik, who spent portions of six years as a back-up for the Phillies in the 1990s, hitting more or less (.275/.351/.371) what we might reasonably expect Frandsen to hit at the major-league level.

Mark DeRosa, Frandsen’s second comp, has had the career that might be considered Frandsen’s upside. The University of Pennsylvania Quakers’ quarterback was drafted by the Braves in the seventh round of the 1996 draft. He’s not been fazed by any of the innumerable new responsibilities he’s been handed over the years, and has become a bit of a super-utilityman. (Despite DeRosa’s many uses, the Cubs traded him in his last contract year to the Tribe, and while that should have provided the Indians a ready excuse to move Jhonny Peralta to third and Asdrubal Cabrera to short, it appears they’ll put DeRosa at third and simultaneously play three infielders at their second-best defensive positions.)

DeRosa’s power spike last year shouldn’t be expected every season. As a matter of fact, DeRosa can be a bit streaky. After missing most of April 2006 with a sprained ankle, DeRosa rejoined the Cubs roster and tore the cover off the ball. At the end of June, he was hitting .346/.401/.514. But 31-year-old infielders rarely morph into Ty Cobb-hitting outfielders overnight, and DeRosa came back to earth, batting a more DeRosa-like .265/.333/.423 the rest of the way. The Tribune Company, of course, bought the May-June surge and gave DeRosa his current contract. Should Frandsen surf a similar wave in 2009, let’s hope the Giants don’t start shoveling money his way.

Steve Dillard, Frandsen’s third comp, spent seven years (not counting one game in 1975) as a utility infielder for the Red Sox, Tigers, White Sox and Cubs. He hit .243/.297/.343. Joe Strain, the fourth comp, was a Giant (1979-80) and then a Cub (1981) and hit .250/.292/.288 in 572 career at-bats. Giants fans hope Frandsen does better than either. What Frandsen has going for him are work ethic and contact-rate. But he doesn’t draw many walks, has middling power, and is an average fielder. All of those things may be an improvement over last year’s second basemen, but they should mean the Giants are still looking to plug that hole.

 

Giants Finally Understand Sunk Costs, But That Takes Nothing Away From Dave Roberts

I saw in Friday’s Chronicle that the Giants have released Dave Roberts.  This demonstrates that the Giants — finally — understand the concept of sunk costs.  The contract they gave Roberts at his advanced age was a mistake.  They have admitted to themselves that although they will be paying Roberts some $6.5 million in 2009, he was going to be doing them no good, and they might as well put his roster spot to use evaluating someone younger who might be part of the next Giants team to win the division.

Although I think this is the right decision for the Giants, we should remember all that Roberts accomplished.  Roberts wasn’t supposed to be a major leaguer in the first place. Guys who are supposed to be major leaguers don’t last until the 28^th round, which is where the Tigers drafted Roberts after his senior season at UCLA. He quickly proved to be more than just a track star in cleats, but he didn’t reach Double-A until he was almost 25. In 1998 he hit .326/.434/.466 in the Southern League before the Tigers traded him to Cleveland. He was even better after the trade, smoking the ball to the tune of .361/.447/.542; his efforts wouldn’t even earn him a courtesy September callup.

He was traded (along with Tim Worrell) for the remains of Geronimo Berroa’s career, starting a trend in which Roberts would be traded every year or two for a lot less than he was worth. Three years later, the Indians would trade him to the Dodgers for two minor leaguers who would forever stay minor leaguers. At the 2004 trading deadline, he was sent to Boston for Henri Stanley, a name that only members of the Sons of Sam Horn message board recognize. Five months later, he was dealt yet again, this time to San Diego for three players and cash, which sounds nice until you read the names of those three players: Jay Payton, Ramon Vazquez, and Dave Pauley. At least the Red Sox got the cash.

Along the way Roberts would get the opportunity to play a little. After a disappointing debut in 1999, he batted just 26 times over the next two years. He finally held down a starting job after joining the Dodgers in 2002, at which point he was 30 years old. He made up for the late start to his career by doing pretty much what he’s done ever since: hit for a decent average (.277), draw some walks (.353 OBP), and steal bases with great efficiency (45 SB, 10 CS). In 2003, he was 40-of-54 on the basepaths. In 2004, he set the all-time NL record for most steals in a season (33) with no more than one caught stealing. He then joined the Red Sox and stole five or six more bases, none of any real consequence. He was on the roster for the team’s playoff run but was of such little use that he didn’t bat once in October; undoubtedly the team would have won without him. (Irony off.)

Roberts then returned to the NL West, where the immense ballparks are a perfect fit for his brand of speed, defense, and all the power of a San Francisco supervisor. For his career Roberts has stolen 243 bases while being caught just 58 times. That’s a stolen base percentage of 80.7 percent. In major league history, he ranks 11^th in stolen base percentage among players with 200 or more attempts:

Player           SB  CS   SB%
Carlos Beltran  275  37  88.1%
Tim Raines      808 146  84.7%
Eric Davis      349  66  84.1%
Willie Wilson   668 134  83.3%
Barry Larkin    379  77  83.1%
Tony Womack     363  74  83.1%
Davy Lopes      557 114  83.0%
Stan Javier     246  51  82.8%
Carl Crawford   302  64  82.5%
Julio Cruz      343  78  81.5%
Dave Roberts    243  58  80.7%

More significantly, Roberts is one of the few major leaguers to earn a reputation as a big-league speedster almost entirely in his thirties. Through his age-29 season, Roberts had only 12 career steals; he has 231 since, and counting. In major league history, no player with fewer than 50 steals before age 30 has stolen more bases after age 30 than Roberts. (The closest is Jimmy Austin, a St. Louis Browns’ third baseman of yore who stole 30 bases before turning 30, and 214 afterwards.) Roberts has 219 more steals after turning 30 than before, a number that ties him for fifth all-time:

Player          SB < 30   SB > 30   Diff.
Otis Nixon        105       515      410
Davey Lopes        99       458      359
Lou Brock         334       604      270
Honus Wagner      239       464      225
Sam Rice           66       285      219
Dave Roberts       12       231      219

Davey Lopes is probably the best comp for Dave Roberts; both were late bloomers who got their shot with the Dodgers and became everyday players noted for their speed, and who occasionally put up sensational stolen base numbers. (Lopes was 45-of-49 in steals in 1978, 44-of-48 in 1979, and 47-of-51 in 1985, when he was 40 years old and only appeared in 99 games.) Lopes was the better player given his surprising power; the 5’9”, 170-pounder hit 155 career home runs, including 28 in 1979. Roberts, on the other hand, has had random strangers approach him to say “thank you” every day for the last four years, and quite likely will never have to pay for a drink in New England for the rest of his life.

 

It Happens Every Spring

Once again this March, I read in the papers, and hear from my friends, especially those in my fantasy league who are touting a particular player or team, that someone has had a “great” spring, or that this player’s spring obviously makes them a shoe-in for his club’s major-league roster.  And once again, I say to them, curb your enthusiasm.  (Or in the case of our Giants, your pessimism.)

I’ve been making the point about the meaninglessness of spring training stats all month, and I’m making it again, here, because I continue to see these stats quoted in newspaper stories about baseball as if they have meaning. They don’t. Spring training stats are meaningless.

Just one of the problems with spring training stats is the sample size issue. If Victor Diaz can pop six homers in two weeks, or Ruben Gotay can hit .436, or Sergio Mitre can post a sub-1.00 ERA – all of these things happened in a three-week period during the 2007 regular season — then how seriously can one take 50 at-bats or 15 innings? That’s what the exhibition season is: small samples deemed to have meaning because they’re ripped completely out of context. A player’s performance in the tiny sample sizes of March is no more significant than it would be in a tiny sample size of June, but because the industry has it in their heads that March is meaningful, these numbers, these performances, are treated as important.

The sample size problem is just the most obvious. Almost as big a problem is that teams aren’t actually trying to win in the Cactus or Grapefruit Leagues, no matter what they may tell you. Performance analysis works because the statistics we use are generated in an effort to win baseball games. Because of this, there are relationships among events that are reliable. In the spring standings in Arizona or Florida, however, winning is at best a secondary goal. The primary goal is preparing players for the season, and that effort is largely an individual one. One guy might need to play a lot to get his swing in order, while another may need to play very little while nursing an injury that wouldn’t keep him out of the lineup in August. One pitcher might be working on his mechanics, and another his new changeup, and if in that effort they both give up 17 runs in nine innings, well, so what? The games don’t count.  It’s because of this that we simply cannot use spring statistics to measure performance, because once you divorce the end goal of winning from the statistical lines, they completely lose meaning.

Another problem, tied to both of the above, is variability in competition. Up until the last week of spring training, there are many, many minor leaguers getting playing time in the games. Most teams travel to road games with just four starters, and maybe that many major league pitchers. No one is seeing a normal distribution of opposition talent, and just on the luck of the draw, some guys might face more Double-A pitchers than MLB ones. As far as I can tell, this is a bigger factor with pitchers, who might run out nine shutout innings while facing a series of minor leaguers wearing MLB colors, and then find themselves in the Opening Day rotation.

All of these issues also affect scouting, observational evidence, and skills analysis. As much as we think that the teams are looking past the flawed spring stats to make their evaluations, in reality, they get fooled by this stuff. Guys don’t make teams or win jobs by hitting .200 or posting a 9.00 ERA. The surprises that pop up in the spring track the stat lines, and the guys who hit .460 are the ones we hear about. You know, the ones who worked in the cage all winter, revamped their swing, had laser eye surgery, rededicated themselves to the game… these storylines are nearly as old as baseball itself. They’re all post facto rationalizations, though, and they’re based on small-sample stats compiled in games where the outcome doesn’t matter against a mix of major leaguers and others.

Spring training stats are meaningless. It’s the single most important thing to keep in mind every March.

 

Oh, Those Wondrous Youngsters

Spring training is upon us, and typically at this time of the year, my thirst for baseball is of such long-standing that my normal cold-bloodedness deserts me. I eagerly follow the doings of the pitchers and catchers (although I don’t quite assume Bengie Molina really believes the team can get by scoring so little as last season). I await the arrival of the young position players, the Frandsens, Ortmeiers, Schierholtzes and Ishikawas. I hope Bruce Bochy will pronounce Frandsen the greatest second-baseman he’s ever seen, not excluding Joe Morgan. Dan Ortmeier fields like J. T. Snow, Tim Lincecum is another Lefty Grove, and Carney Lansford says his man, Rajai Davis, is the next Pete Reiser. We can dream.