Playground baseball and bad science at the gentlemen's club

It’s still early in the season, but some things are sorting themselves out. The Pirates, now in their standard lowest-potential-energy state at the bottom of the NL Central, are not as awesome as some proclaimed them to be. On the other hand, the Rangers and Reds have, so far, outperformed all expectations, while the Royals and Giants are also above .500. What does it really mean to be barely above .500 in mid-May? Couldn’t that change in just a few days?

Well, of course. Let’s look away from the won-lost record, and instead look at the probability of making the playoffs as determined by Baseball Prospectus. Their computers play the season a million times, using each team’s established level of performance to approximate who will win each game.

Who’s most likely to make the playoffs? The Dodgers, of course, who have the best record in the majors. Their four-game lead over the Giants as of Thursday translates into an 84% chance of making the playoffs. The Royals are a 50-50 shot. The Giants, though they have a slightly better record than the Royals, have only a 13% playoff probability – they play in a tougher division. The vaunted Yankees are down to 18%. No one is effectively eliminated yet;[1] the Orioles, at 14-20 in a strong division, are the worst bet at 3%.

How rapidly do these probabilities change? The case of the Mariners is instructive. They have won just once in the past week, during which their playoff probability has dropped from 24% to just 9%.


Why do we venerate the hitting streak?
Ryan Zimmerman of the Nationals had his 30 game hitting streak snapped this week. I ask, why do we care?

Not that I’m downplaying Mr. Zimmerman’s ability. He is a proud member of the Electric Marshmallows, the Nachoman’s fantasy team, so I am acutely aware of his ability to get on base consistently. Such ability would be far more interesting if the Gnats pitchers had any ability to keep opponents OFF base, but that’s an irrelevant tangent.

My point is that I’ve always suspected the “hitting steak” to be a concept invented for the sole purpose of venerating Joe DiMaggio. Over a long season, batting average, on base percentage, slugging percentage, and other stats can allow a reasonable comparison between players. Over a single night of baseball, Willy Taveras can outperform Albert Pujols. Whether a hitter maintains a long hitting streak is far more a manifestation of luck than of differentiated skill – everyone who has ever hit for a long streak is a good hitter, but I dispute the conceit that DiMaggio is better than Rose by a score of 56-44.


A simple, obvious rule change that would net the Nachoman major dough
I took last week off because I’ve been traveling for two straight weekends. First I was in Oak Ridge for the US Association of Young Physicist Tournaments board meeting, where we made plans for our February 6, 2010 physics debate tournament. Then I drove to Richmond, VA to run an all-day Saturday prep session for students about to take the AP physics exam.

That session was paid for by a Virginia nonprofit group who has obtained a multi-million dollar federal grant for the improvement of AP science teaching. I can’t object to the purpose behind that grant; millions for AP science teaching is certainly better than spending federal money researching the connection between ovulation and strippers’ tips. Nevertheless, I have an easier way to ensure quality AP science teaching: make the teachers ace the AP exam.

Currently, any schmo who earns science teaching certification can teach AP physics in a public school, no matter how much physics that person knows, no matter how good that person is at teaching, and no matter how much effort that person puts into his or her course. The major problem with evaluating teachers is that teaching talent and effort are nebulous, subjective qualities.[2]

Physics knowledge, though, is not particularly subjective. Although I agree that too many teachers who know physics well have zero ability to help others learn the subject, I also submit that it is impossible to teach a subject in which one has insufficient fundamental knowledge – no matter how good the teacher. Since it’s next to impossible to fairly evaluate teaching ability and effort, why not test a teacher’s physics knowledge?

In fact, we have an excellent, nationally normed, standardized exam which tests physics knowledge: the AP exam itself. I suggest that public schools eliminate the arcane and worthless teaching certification rules, and instead allow anyone with a college degree to attempt to teach AP physics, if that person can get a top score of “5” on the exam. (And if that person fails to get a 5 on the exam, then that person cannot teach the course; I don’t like my tax money paying people in jobs for which they are not qualified.)

Now, I’m sure the local NEA union chief has already started writing a nasty response to the Nachoman reminding me that, even were all physics teachers to pass the AP exam, many would still stink as teachers, and would thus be unqualified for the money they earn. I can’t argue with that point. So, tell me again, why is it a bad idea to root out the one mode of incompetence which can, without question, be rooted out?

Finally, you might ask why such a simple rule change could net the Nachoman some dough. You see, the number of actually qualified AP physics teachers is relatively small. If a school must hire from a limited pool of teachers, then they will be forced to pay higher wages – that’s just supply and demand. Instead of offering workshops and seminars and programs with multi-million dollar federal grants, why not just use that money to pay truly qualified teachers? That’s a lot simpler, and would net the country substantially better results.


Not ALL umpires look like this
If you watch mlb.tv, you may have seen advertisements for the week-long mlb umpire camp in southern California. I met several veterans of this camp when I was at Umpire School – apparently the camp is sort of a point of contact to help the major leagues scout for umpire talent.

Unfortunately, the video from this camp (a screenshot is to the right) plays into the hands of those who stereotype umpire physiques. Not all of us have enormous bellies! Some of us have merely large bellies.


It’s easier to blame the umpire than your teammate's crappy performance
After Tuesday’s extra inning loss to the Mets, Braves legend Chipper Jones lashed out at umpire Greg G

ibson for costing his team the game. In the 9th inning, the Braves led by a run with one out and a man on second base. Carlos Beltran bolted for third base, McCann made a perfect throw… and replays indicate that Mr. Jones applied the tag an instant before Mr. Beltran reached the bag. Greg Gibson ruled “safe” – he missed a bang-bang call.

He missed the call, but did he truly cost the game? Possibly… Mr. Beltran scored on a sacrifice fly to tie the game, when a proper out call would have put the Braves one out from victory with the bases empty.

Nevertheless, consider how the game ended in the 10th inning. Pitcher Jeff Bennett got two quick outs, then gave up a single and a stolen base. He intentionally walked starter Alex Cora to face pinch hitter Ramon Cas

tro, whose career batting average is a paltry .238.

Mr. Bennett proceeded to go 3-0 on Castro, finishing up with a 5-pitch walk. That brought up Carlos Beltran, who took two straight balls, eventually walking to force in the winning run.

Jeff Bennett, you earn the Nachoman's Stinky Cheese award for your 10th inning. And Mr. Jones, I feel your pain about the out in the 9th, but your teammate blew the game, not the umpire.


Strippers and bad science
The previously referenced article

“Ovulatory cycle effects on tip earnings by lap dancers: economic evidence for human estrus?” earned the 2008 Ig Nobel Prize for economics. Why? Well, for one, the premise is funny. But I dispute the study’s conclusions.

Read the study’s abstract. The conclusion drawn by the authors is that ovulating strippers earn better tips than non-ovulating strippers. Their evidence: a control group of strippers on birth control pills earned, on average, relatively constant tips over the course of a month. However, the strippers on their natural reproductive cycle earned almost twice as much money when they were ovulating than when they were not.

I see two major problems with the research methods. The first is that results were self reported. Especially if the women involved knew what the researchers were investigating, they might have adjusted their reporting to meet the researchers, or their own, expectations. Secondly, the sample size is just 18 women over merely two months. Presumably that’s only about nine women in the control group and nine in the investigatory group. The chances are immense that random events – a performer having a bad day, a dancer in one group being significantly better than the others, A-Rod showing up at the club – could have significantly skewed the results.

To check the validity of this study, I suspect I can obtain a large contingent of volunteers from my E period class who would love to redo this study properly, with or without a federal grant. To address my concerns about the methodology, they propose the use of video analysis rather than self reporting.

And there are people who say science isn’t applicable in "real life."


A TV broadcast gimmick that’s actually interesting and useful
No, it’s nothing so revolutionary as the “Fox Box” or the yellow on-screen first down marker, but nothing as crappity as the infamous glowing puck. Sportschannel New York, which broadcasts Mets games, shows what they call the “pitch differential.”

The Nachoman has long advocated that an in-depth evaluation of a pitcher’s outing should be on a pitch-by-pitch basis. One should look at the accuracy and movement of the pitch rather than the actual result. If the catcher wants a slider down and away, but the pitch goes up and in, then that’s bad. But if the pitch is a nasty slider dead on the catcher’s glove, that’s good, even if that awesome slider gets knocked for bloop double.

SNY’s “pitch differential” highlights the catcher’s target with a blue circle; the actual pitch location is highlighted in yellow. Viewers can see for themselves how badly the pitcher missed his target… or, viewers can see that a pitch was actually quite good, even if the batter hits it. “Pitch differential” makes it difficult for broadcasters to engage in one of the Nachoman’s pet peeves, the color man who describes every hard hit ball as coming off of a pitch “out over the plate.”


Playground baseball: why young players don’t know the rules
I worked a middle school baseball game as the plate umpire on Tuesday. Early in the game, the visiting pitcher tried to pick off a runner at second base, who slid back to the bag safely. The alert shortstop held the tag on the runner as he got up. The 13-year-old took his hand off the base before he contacted the base with his foot; since he was still being tagged, he was out. I’ve never seen that before.

Soon thereafter, the visiting pitcher pivoted, stepped toward first base, and faked a pickoff throw there. I called a balk. Now, at the varsity and especially at the collegiate or pro level, the umpire is directed never to engage in explanation of a balk unless asked; even then, the explanation should be succinct. “He faked a throw to first from the rubber” is sufficient, because the assumption is that everyone knows the rule.[3]

With a 13-year-old on the mound, though, I felt comfortable asking the pitcher if he knew what he did wrong. With eyes as wide as saucers, he shook his head. I briefly explained that he wasn’t allowed to fake a throw to first base unless he first stepped off the back of the rubber. The boy nodded… but later in the inning he took my partner aside for more clarification. Between innings I asked the coach if he was clear on the rule; he said he was, and he took the pitcher aside for a cram session.

So what’s your point here, Nachoman?

My partner noted to me between innings that these coaches seem not to have taught their players some basic tenets of baseball: maintain contact with the base or call time after a slide, you can’t fake a throw to first from the rubber. Me, I don’t blame the coaches. They get a bare minimum of practice time, during which they rightfully should be more concerned with developing physical skills. Rules and tactical tidbits are learned not by coaching but by experience.

And this brings me back, as always, to the Fundamental Theorem of Nachodom: Baseball is best learned by 10-15 year olds playing numerous unstructured “playground” games without adult involvement.

Think about how you learned various rules of the game. I personally am a nerd about such things, so I learned a lot by noting unusual occurrences in major league games. But some of the most lasting lessons came by playing experience. To wit:

When does the batter run to first base after a dropped third strike? I couldn’t have told you when I was 12. At least, not until I ran into a triple play. I was on third base, bases loaded, none out. The batter struck out, and the catcher dropped the ball. “Run!” shouted an assortment of ignorant soccer moms insistently, with their tone of voice indicating that we baserunners were worse than stupid for failing to run. Realizing that I was forced home if the batter ran to first, I ran. The catcher, of course, tagged me out easily, then threw to second base to put out another confused boy for the triple play. The coach didn’t hold his temper well after the game, when he explained that the batter ONLY has to run to first base if the base is open, or if there are two outs.

You may not remember your own confusion when you were young, but the rule about retouching your base after a caught fly ball is not obvious to novice players.[4] All the boys in Beechwood Elementary School’s third grade in 1981 learned that one the hard way. We drafted teams for kickball in gym class one day, and of course nerdboy Nachoman was chosen last. The captains had been one boy and one girl, who had picked on strict gender lines. Thus, I was stuck as the odd boy out on the girls’ team.

Top of the first inning, the first two boys smugly kicked singles as the girls in their girly way acted as if the ball would mess up their hair if it touched them. With runners at first and second and none out, the next boy who thought he was awesome popped the ball up to me at shortstop. I caught it, and noticed that the runners had just sprinted to the next bases. I stepped on second, tagged the runner from first base, and I had executed an unassisted triple play.

The more games that a kid plays in, the more chances that kid has to learn little bits of baseball knowledge. Nowadays, I hardly ever see pickup games of baseball, softball, stickball, kickball, or whatever. Kids play football or lacrosse or even soccer in those rare times when they are free to fool around by themselves. I haven’t seen any sort of recreational baseball on Woodberry’s campus in five years, when a small group of seniors organized a daily stickball game. Is it any wonder that today’s best baseball players come from the Caribbean?


I call balogna
Mets pitcher J.J. Putz[5] used to be the “closer” for the Mariners, but this year he signed a huge contract with the Mets to be their “setup” man. Francisco Rodriguez was signed to be the closer.

Now, what difference should the defined roles make? Not much. Both pitchers are expected to pitch a single inning in tight game situations. Whether that inning is the 8th or 9th should be rather immaterial. Holding a 1-run lead in the 8th is nearly as critical as holding that lead in the 9th; if the pitcher’s team ends up pulling away in the 9th, then the pitcher’s 8th inning work is MORE important to the victory. Nevertheless, relief pitchers have been conditioned by journalists, agents, and each other that they must pitch the 9th inning to be a mensch.

Mr. Putz has had a rough stretch, which can be attributed to a recently diagnosed shoulder injury. He just took a cortisone shot which should allow him to pitch through the pain. According to Yahoo Fantasy Sports:

“[The injury] explains his recent struggles, though Putz thought his mild drop in velocity was due to the "lack of adrenaline" from pitching in the eighth rather than save situations.”

Oh, boy… Mr. Putz, you’re saying you’re going to stink until you get the adrenaline rush from the 9th inning again? Are you truly talking about the adrenaline rush of a 3-run lead facing the 7, 8, and 9 hitter for the cheapest save in the universe? Or are you REALLY talking about the adrenaline rush picturing the yacht you’re going to buy with the extra money a save can earn on your next contract?

Of course, if mlb would abolish the save statistic, then maybe relief pitchers would be evaluated and paid in better relation to their actual ability and performance.

And if pigs could fly I could have a pulled pork sandwich on my next cross country flight.


Sore loser department
On Sunday night, the Red Sox and the Devil Rays engaged in what looks now, on paper, to be a good game, until the line “time of game: 3:30” jumps off the page. The Nachoman didn’t even bother to watch, knowing that an AL East game on ESPN was nearly guaranteed to be excruciating.

Instead, I found game 4 of the Celtics-Magic playoff series. I’ve kept up a wee bit with the Celtics’ progress this postseason just because I read all of Bill Simmons’ columns. I was thus aware that Glen “Big Baby” Davis has been thrust into action due to the absence of aging former MVP candidate Kevin Garnett.

On the decisive play of this game, with the Celtics down one, Mr. Baby set a screen for Paul Pierce as the clock ticked under 5 seconds. Both defenders jumped Mr. Pierce, surmising correctly that the high profile player would be expected to take the last-second shot. Mr. Pierce cagily and correctly passed off to Mr. Baby, who had a wide open 17 foot jump shot for the win. To everyone’s surprise, including Mr. Baby’s, the shot went in, evening the series.

You can see video of the shot everywhere on youtube,

including here. A couple of notes:

(1) Watch the video in real speed, and ask yourself if the shot beats the buzzer. I suspect your answer will be, “yes, obviously.” I mean, the red light indicating the expiration of the game doesn’t come on until the ball is swishing thorough the basket. No question. Nevertheless, the officials wasted more than a minute checking the replay before they declared the game official. My goodness… they should have been thoroughly confident of their call so as not to even need replay. But if they DID need replay, why did it take more than one quick viewing? The first replay I saw on television was as decisive as could be. What took so long?

(2) Note the title of the video: “Glen “Big Baby” Davis Hits the Game Winner At the Buzzer! (And Pushes Kid.) TNT didn’t show it live, but on replay you can see Mr. Baby make mild contact with a pre-adolescent boy on his way to celebrate with his teammates. The boy’s hat fell to the floor. Sniff. From the Associated Press:

"The father of the 12-year-old boy bumped by Celtics big man Glen ''Big Baby'' Davis after Sunday's game-winning shot is demanding an apology.

Ernest Provetti told the Orlando Sentinel that he wrote the NBA office demanding an apology from Davis for acting like a ''raging animal with no regard for fans' personal safety.'' NBA spokesman Tim Frank confirmed the league received the e-mail but declined to comment on it. "

I hope Mr. Frank demands an apology from Mr. Provetti’s son for his failure to control himself during the last seconds of the game. Look at the video again – Sore Loser Boy had jumped far out of his courtside seat, putting himself within a foot of the court itself. The animal raged within the confines of his cage; Sore Loser Boy was the one who jumped into said cage, and is lucky he merely got his hat knocked off.


Next Week
Noting that Mr. Provetti obtained the apology he sought, as well as 15 minutes of ill-gotten fame, the city of Cincinnati enlists Mr. Provetti's assistance to demand an apology from Mike Brown for two decades of incompetence.

[1] The Nachoman defines “effectively eliminated” as a less than 1% chance of making the playoffs.
[2] I often bastardize justice Potter Stewart’s quotation about quality physics teaching: I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it.
[3] This is usually a good assumption. Managers and players will often feign ignorance in order to argue a call, or in order to get what they hope will be an advantage, but they usually shut up once it’s clear that the umpire knows his business. If a high-level coach in fact is ignorant of a rule, he can get a detailed explanation between innings.
[4] In particular, I remember trying in vain to explain this rule to Thomas the Frenchman on our Haverford College physics department softball team.
[5]

Pronounced “puts,” as in “The boy puts matzoh on the table.” Not the other way.