Ribbie Reporter: Opening Day, and More

Note that the Ribbie Reporter’s Baseball Contest Picks are at the bottom of this post!

My thoughts on the Nachoman Quality Start
Somewhere at Woodberry Forest tonight, the Nachoman is fuming. Gil Meche, the Royals $11 million a year ace, is getting credit for what Major League baseball calls a “quality start.” Meche went six innings, giving up three runs on seven hits and four walks to the stacked Tigers lineup.[1] According to the Nachoman, throwing six innings while allowing three runs is hardly “quality.[2] Instead, he proposes the following guidelines, which he amended from earlier standards that expected pitchers to compile a game ERA under 3.00 to get the coveted NQS:

6+ innings while allowing one earned run of fewer.
7+ innings while allowing two earned runs or fewer.
8+ innings while allowing three earned runs or fewer.
9+ innings while allowing four earned runs or fewer.

Now, I’ll admit that Meche’s start was mostly mediocre. Walking four batters usually indicates that a pitcher doesn’t have his best stuff. However, look at that Tigers lineup. Does anyone really believe that they’re going to average fewer than five runs per game this year? In 2007 the American league as a whole had an ERA of 4.51, almost exactly what Meche had today. You could argue that average is not equal quality, and you’d have a good point.

I’ll close by offering a pearl of wisdom from Bill James (who CBS has apparently just discovered). James analyzed every MLB quality start (6 innings and three runs or less) from 1984-1991. He discovered that pitchers had a 1.91 ERA during the games in question. Yes, Gil Meche will get a cheap quality start for his efforts yesterday. But it’s worth considering James’s analysis. Most quality starts, apparently, aren’t as cheap as the Nachoman might think.

I will, however, offer my congratulations to the following pitchers who recorded a NQS on Opening Day:

* Jamie Shields, seven innings pitched, two earned runs allowed in a 6-2 Tampa Bay victory over Baltimore.

* Kevin Millwood of Texas, six innings pitched and no earned runs allowed, though he did give up two unearned runs and took the loss.

* Ben Sheets, 6.1 innings and no runs allowed against Carlos Zambrano, 6.2 innings and no runs allowed.[3]

* Livan Hernandez, seven innings pitched and two earned runs allowed against Milwaukee.

* Brad Penny, 6.2 innings and no runs allowed against San Francisco, my pick for the worst team in the MLB this year (though the Pirates will be reluctant to surrender that distinction).

* And the new Mr. Met, Johan Santana, who went seven innings and allowed two runs and made every Mets fan feel better. There’s nothing like Opening Day to make last fall’s heartbreaks fade a bit.

Oh, and one final note. Meche got a no decision, but the Royals won 5-4 in 11 innings. That, my friends, is one quality development nobody can argue with.


Opening week addendum, or “good pitching = brooms for Kansas City
Maybe I shouldn’t have wasted my breath on Opening Day. After defending the conventional “quality start” in my initial post, I sat back Wednesday and Thursday and watched Brian Bannister and Zack Greinke throw a pair of bonafide Nachoman Quality starts against that vaunted Detroit Tigers lineup (though Miguel Cabrera did miss the Greinke game with a quadriceps injury). Bannister continues to be living proof that good things happen when pitchers throw strikes, mix-up their pitches well and get ahead in the count. In the third innings, for example, Bannister started Pudge Rodriquez, Jacque Jones and Brandon Inge off with 0-2 counts and got all three out. Overall, he faced 22 batters and threw a first pitch strike to 14 of them. Bannister only allowed a pair of singles to Edgar Renteria, and both times he followed that up by coaxing a ground ball (though on one of those grounders the Royals only got a force out instead of the double play). Look, pitching to contact will never give you stats to match Johan Santana, but with a solid defense a pitcher can be very successful. Again, the key to Bannister’s outing was the way he worked inside and out, up in the zone and down, mixing fastballs with junk.

Greinke wasn’t quite as sharp, but even though he walked a pair of batters and allowed six hits, the only run came off a Brandon Inge homer.[4] He gets the NQS for throwing seven innings and looking good while he did it. Neither Greinke nor Bannister stuck out very many batters, as Bannister nailed four and Greinke three.

Regular readers know that the Nachoman and I have seen a lot of bad pitching in the last few years. He’s had to put up with Eric Milton. I’ve had to put up with “El Taco Grande”[5] and a host of other miserable pitchers in Kansas City. But Bannister and Greinke, when paired with Gil Meche, give the Royals a decent group of starters at the top of the rotation. Closer Joakim Soria continues the Royals decision to use a Rule V pick on him last year; he’s closed out each of our first three games in fine fashion.[6]

Over at the Great American Bandbox … I mean Ballpark, Johnny Cueto started his Major League career by taking a perfect game into the sixth inning. Justin Upton ended that with a home run, but that was the only hit Cueto gave up in seven innings. Might the two of us finally be treated to a season where we see our teams not give up football scores?

Finally, Alex Gordon punctuated the Royals sweep of the Tigers by hitting an opposite field home run deep into the left-center alley of Tiger Stadium[7] (I think the fence is about 385 at that spot). Yeah, I’d say he can hit a little bit. Now if only we could get him to stop striking out once every 2.5 at bats.

Coming up next time:
The Ribbie Reporter watches baseball instead of writing his end-of-term ethics paper and studying for his history exam. And coming up the week after that, he goes to Nicaragua. Sadly, winter ball is over and all of the great players are back in the States, so he probably won’t get to see a game while he’s there.

-- The Ribbie Reporter

Ribbie Reporter's Baseball Contest Picks:
THE BASICS (point value in parentheses)1. Which six teams will be division winners? (5 each)
-- Mets, Cubs, Rockies, Yankees, Indians and Mariners
2. Which two teams will win the wild cards? (5 each)-- Red Sox and Braves

3. Which two teams will go to the World Series? (15 each)-- Red Sox and Braves

4. Which team will win the World Series? (30)-- Braves

5. Which team will have the best regular-season record? (10)Yankees

6. Which team will have the worst regular-season record? (10)Orioles

7. Who will win the AL and NL Cy Young awards? (10 each)AL – Justin Verlander; NL – Johan Santana

8. Who will win the AL and NL MVP awards? (10 each)AL – Manny Ramirez NL – David Wright

9. Who will win the AL and NL Rookie of the Year awards? (10 each)
AL – Evan Longoria NL – Johnny Cueto

TEAMS (all remaining questions 10 points each. All questions include regular-season games only.)10. Which NL team will score the most runs? And which AL team? (5 points each)
Tigers and Rockies
11. Which NL team will give up the most runs? And which AL team? (5 points each)
Cardinals and Orioles
12. Which team will have the most-improved record, measured in increase in total regular-season victories?
Reds

13. Which team will suffer the biggest decline, measured in decrease in total regular-season victories?
Cardinals
14. Rank these teams in order of regular-season wins, most to fewest: Nationals, Pirates, Orioles, Devil Rays, Royals.
Most-fewest: Nationals, Royals, Devil Rays, Pirates, Orioles

INDIVIDUALS (Asterisk denotes partial credit will be given.)15. Which manager will be first to no longer be managing his team (whether fired, retired, resigned or otherwise not managing) in 2008?
Bob Geren
16. Who will be the highest-salaried player (based on 2008 salary) released or traded?
C.C. Sabathia (traded)
17. Which starting pitcher who’s changed teams (a group that includes Johan Santana and Dontrelle Willis) will earn the most wins?
Santana
18. Will anyone reach the 20-20-20-20 threshold (in doubles, triples, home runs and stolen bases) that Curtis Granderson and Jimmy Rollins reached last year? If yes, who?
Rollins will repeat.
19. How many home runs will Barry Bonds hit?*
0

WE’RE CURIOUS20. Will average television ratings for the World Series go up or down from last year’s 10.6?
Down

[1] Check the box score for full details of this beastly Detroit lineup.
[2] Moss Klein of The Sporting News has also raised this argument in years past.
[3] Though Kerry Wood and Erik Gagne each gave up three runs during the ninth inning.
[4] What’s the under/over on the number of positions Inge plays this year? I predict five: CF, 3b, LF, RF and C. He’s already got the first two in the bag.
[5] Known on lineup cards as Runelvys Hernandez.
[6] The Rule V draft lets teams select players from other organizations who are not on the protected “40-man” roster. Once selected, the player must spend the entire next season in the big leagues. If the player is demoted, then his old club has the option of demanding him back. And no, I have no idea how this system developed.
[7] I don’t feel like calling it “Comerica Park” or whatever the heck it’s named.

Nachoman's picks -- please forget these before October 1.

Last week, I asked all of the Nachoman's readers to enter The Daily Fix's baseball contest. Here are my own picks. (Though I made that Brewers pick before I recalled their pickup of Eric Gagne with a spoon. Oops.)

Don't forget, new column coming Friday...

THE BASICS (point value in parentheses)
1. Which six teams will be division winners? (5 each)
Mets, Brewers, D-backs, Red Sox, Tigers, Angels

2. Which two teams will win the wild cards? (5 each)
Braves, Yankees (ugh)

3. Which two teams will go to the World Series? (15 each)
Tigers, Braves

4. Which team will win the World Series? (30)
Braves

5. Which team will have the best regular-season record? (10)
Mets

6. Which team will have the worst regular-season record? (10)
Marlins

7. Who will win the AL and NL Cy Young awards? (10 each)
AL: B. Webb, J. Lackey


8. Who will win the AL and NL MVP awards? (10 each)
J. Reyes, A. Rodriguez

9. Who will win the AL and NL Rookie of the Year awards? (10 each)
Votto (this Reds fan hopes), Buchholz


TEAMS (all remaining questions 10 points each. All questions include regular-season games only.)
10. Which NL team will score the most runs? And which AL team? (5 points each)
Phillies, Yankees


11. Which NL team will give up the most runs? And which AL team? (5 points each)
Marlins, Devil Rays

12. Which team will have the most-improved record, measured in increase in total regular-season victories?
Tampa


13. Which team will suffer the biggest decline, measured in decrease in total regular-season victories?
Cardinals

14. Rank these teams in order of regular-season wins, most to fewest: Nationals, Pirates, Orioles, Devil Rays, Royals.
Rays, Gnats, Pirates, Royals, Orioles


INDIVIDUALS (Asterisk denotes partial credit will be given.)
15. Which manager will be first to no longer be managing his team (whether fired, retired, resigned or otherwise not managing) in 2008?
Charlie Manuel

16. Who will be the highest-salaried player (based on 2008 salary) released or traded?
Pettite


17. Which starting pitcher who’s changed teams (a group that includes Johan Santana and Dontrelle Willis) will earn the most wins?
Santana


18. Will anyone reach the 20-20-20-20 threshold (in doubles, triples, home runs and stolen bases) that Curtis Granderson and Jimmy Rollins reached last year? If yes, who?
Rollins again

19. How many home runs will Barry Bonds hit?*
zero

WE’RE CURIOUS
20. Will average television ratings for the World Series go up or down from last year’s 10.6?
down (4 hour games that start at 9:30 p.m. won't get many viewers outside of Boston)

A Season of Nachodom Awaits

Welcome back for the fourth year of Nachoman’s Baseball. As all regular readers know, the Nachoman specializes in analysis of actual baseball games. But, since I will not dignify exhibitions with any kind of serious analysis, preseason columns tend to digress into basketball, sports television, and the boulder in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

First things first – two months ago, the Nachoman attended the Harry Wendelstedt Umpire School. If you’re wondering what that experience was like, take a look at this series of posts, starting January 1 and finishing in early February.

Next, for those of you new to Nachodom, each regular contributor to the column has a theme name bestowed upon him or her. If you are confused as to who’s who, please refer to the chart in a follow-up post.

And finally, please expect regular Friday articles until I feel like stopping. Tell your friends about the site. Spam Bill Simmons until he “pimps” my column. Spread the Nachoman experience.

So…. This week begins with…

Tommy gets feisty, to the general amusement of all
Weight-loss pitchman Tommy Lasorda took over as manager of the leftover Dodgers… One part of the Dodgers spring squad, along with manager Joe Torre, headed to China for an exhibition series. Those who were not assigned to make the trip remained in Vero Beach, Florida’s “Dodgertown” to play normal Grapefruit League exhibitions. Mr. Lasorda was appointed as a crowd pleaser; the Dodgers hoped that the presence of a demigod might distract the residents of Vero from their disgust that the team will be ending their six-decade-old relationship with the town.[1]

Anyway, in only the second inning of Mr. Lasorda’s first game, he bolted up from the bench to holler at plate umpire Damien Beal, provoking ecstasy from the crowd. Never mind that even the LA Times pointed out that Mr. Beal’s call was obviously correct, never mind that Mr. Lasorda couldn’t hide a huge grin as he was escorted back to the dugout by the umpires’ crew chief… the fans got the show they paid to see.

Now, you’re probably expecting me to give Mr. Lasorda a dose of Nachoman heck, right? After all, I’m a notorious defender of umpires, and a professionally-trained umpire myself. But you’re wrong. Consider the game from Mr. Beal’s perspective. Mr. Beal, 35 years old, has worked in the minor leagues since 1996. Twelve years of toil MAY, possibly, in the next 1-3 years, pay off with a major league job… or, maybe not.

But, whatever else happens with his career, Mr. Beal will be able to tell his grandchildren that he argued with Tommy Lasorda. That’s a career-defining moment. In a good way.

Randy Johnson Baseball: Revenge of the Birds is also under development

Looking for a cool new computer game that doesn’t involve gruesome, violent death? Check out Crayon Physics Deluxe, a time-waster in the best tradition of Minesweeper or Tetris, but even more addictive – I was enraptured just watching the video, so I can’t imagine how I would ever stop playing the actual game itself.

In other video game news, the Atlanta Cracker forwarded to me an article from Slate Magazine detailing some new offerings. Slate denigrated the ever-more-graphic but ever-more-realistic shoot-‘em-up games, but noted that independent designers have gained traction in the market now that an individual can in fact distribute a game over the internet. My favorite new idea:

“There are many games based on the exploits of Indiana Jones, but Purho's version is the only one that tells the story from the boulder's point of view, letting players control the rampaging sphere and smoosh wave after wave of attacking archeologists.”

This guy earns seven figures for being a football expert
I do have a measure of respect for Tony Kornheiser, who (with Michael Wilbon) practically invented the modern sports television genre of “men shouting at each other emphatically.” Granted, most of their imitators should be banished to the nether reaches of heck, along with television producers and executives who think that, just because the public enjoys Tony and Mike, all sports shows must involve buffoonery and hyperbolic opinion reported as fact. But I will admit to downloading the PTI podcast on a daily basis. Mr. Kornheiser parlayed his fame into a seat alongside Mike Tirico in the Monday Night Football broadcast booth. Yet Mr. Kornheiser should be ashamed to call himself a “football analyst” after his aside on a recent PTI show.

He quoted a blurb about the contract of Pittsburgh Steelers guard Alan Faneca, a seven-time pro bowler. Mr. Faneca is perhaps one of the three or four offensive linemen best known to the casual fan, likely because of his awesome work in the 2006 playoffs and Super Bowl blocking for Jerome Bettis and protecting Ben Rothlisberger.

Immediately after mentioning Mr. Faneca, Mr. Kornheiser said “I hope I pronounced that right.”

My goodness, that’s actually much worse than the president of the United States referring to nucular energy… what is Mr. Kornheiser doing to earn the money ESPN pays him? Apparently not any kind work to familiarize himself with the NFL.

Maybe my next column should come with a downloadable certificate of authenticity
As is the magazine’s tradition, mere moments after the Giants won the Super Bowl, Sports Illustrated commercials emerged offering a New York Giants championship commerative football as an enticement to new subscribers. This football comes with a panel listing the scores for all of the Giants games this year.[2]

It also comes with a “certificate of authenticity.” Um, what does that mean? SI certifies that this is a genuine football-shaped object? That these are the authentic scores from the authentic 2007 Giants season? Or, that it’s an authentic mass produced piece of pretend memorabilia?

Headlines: Blind Squirrel Finds Nut, CBS Basketball Broadcast Earns Praise
When’s the last time you heard a matter-of-fact basketball analyst who didn’t use hyperbole, who consistently shut up when his play-by-play man needed to give information, whose tone was never one of self-promotion, who talked about basketball rather than about players’ and coaches’ personal lives? When’s the last time you heard a television play-by-play guy who named every player who took a shot or committed a foul?

Answer: when Ian Eagle and Jim Spanarkel did an outstanding job with the March 9 Florida-Kentucky game. Sure, it’s sad that merely fulfilling the basic covenant of broadcasting merits such over-the-top praise. But I will give credit where it’s due. Here’s hoping that Mssrs. Eagle and Spanarkel do some NCAA tournament work.

I didn’t think this ever happened outside the world of cartoons
The Nachoboy actually stepped on a garden rake, causing the handle to pop up and hit him in the nose, Sideshow Bob-style. The poor boy didn’t understand why I was laughing while his nose hurt.

An active lawsuit made for much more interesting news, thank you very much.
Remember the slimeball lawyer who filed suit against the Patriots for cheating in the Super Bowl against the Rams? Every sports media outlet in America reported that juicy story prominently. However, as far as I can see, only USA Today spotlighted the AP story about the slimeball lawyers withdrawing their suit. [Follow-up: si.com put it up in small type on their front page a day later.]

In the absence of baseball games to discuss…
Folks, I am a certified Kentucky Basketball fan. Thus, I wince every time I even hear discussion of Christian Laettner’s miracle shot in 1992. In fact, when I checked the previous link to be sure it worked, I averted my eyes from the video. I don’t know why anyone would watch such filth.

Yet, the Laettner shot lives on as the standard for a full-court end-of-game miracle. Even though Bryce Drew hit an even more miraculous shot for Valparaiso six years after Laettner, Duke-Kentucky seems to live longer in the country’s collective sports memory. There are good reasons for this. Mr. Laettner’s shot won the regional final, while Mr. Drew’s shot won a mere first-round game. Duke ended up winning the national championship in 1992, while Valpo fizzled out. Duke beat Kentucky, a team with memorable history, a team that was going places under Rick Pitino, a team that had risen from the ashes of NCAA probation after the evil Eddie Sutton escaped Lexington with tar and feathers still stuck to his back; I’ll send a Nachoman business card to anyone who can, without internet assistance, name the team that Mr. Drew slew with his shot.

I thus categorize the Duke-Kentucky game as more significant, more historic, more relevant to the national sports consciousness. But, the Valpo ending included a better shot which must be described as more miraculous.[3]

Other than to pick at an old wound, my point is to describe the awesome ending to the Minnesota-Indiana game in the Big 10 tournament. Blake Hoffarber hit a Christian Laettner shot, except it was better than the Laettner shot.

Minnesota-Indiana: The Summary
I worked this game for STATS. My preference was to see ex-Kentucky coach Tubby Smith knock off the University of Naïveté.[4] However, since I was keeping stats, my primary rooting interest was to avoid overtime. When Indiana’s Eric Gordon got to the free throw line with just a few seconds left, I cheered wildly for him to miss at least one shot, as his team was down two points. Woo-hoo, he missed the first.

Thus the extra-low-percentage, desperate tactic was set up, requiring Mr. Gordon to deliberately miss the free throw and hope for a long rebound that could be tipped in. That never works. Unless, that is, the Minnesota players inexplicably allow no fewer than two Indiana players to outleap them by several feet. It was DJ White who tipped in the tying basket with less than 3 seconds left… and got fouled in the process. At the time I looked at the foul as my salvation: now I cheered wildly for Mr. White to make his free throw to win the game.

Mr. White missed, but garnered his own rebound.[5] He got fouled again, this time with 1.4 seconds showing on the clock. Now with two chances to win the game, he missed the first free throw (aarrgh!) but hit the second. Minnesota called time out, down by 1, to “set up” a play.[6]

Travis Busch threw a long pass. Right-handed Blake Hoffarber somehow caught it over two defenders, landed facing away from the basket, turned, heaved with his left hand… swish. And there was much rejoicing.

Other interesting periphery
AWESOME… The Big 10 network had a camera over Tubby Smith’s huddle during the final timeout. We could see everything he wrote! Unfortunately, I couldn’t decipher what he was planning. But kudos to the network for giving viewers some actual insight into a team’s strategy, even if that strategy boiled down to “clasp your hands together and pray really, really hard.”

NOT Awesome… the last 5 seconds took several geologic epochs to play, with timeout following upon timeout. On one occasion the officials took two minutes to correct a two-second timing discrepancy. (My objection isn’t that the officials made the correction… my objection is that they took so dang long to do so.) Similarly, the officials reviewed the last-second shot to be sure it beat the buzzer. Okay, no problem there… even though the shot seemed obviously good, a quick look at the replay can’t hurt to be sure. But the review took several minutes! I mean, how hard is it to look at the first replay that the Big 10 network showed, see the ball released and the red light go on with the ball in the air, and end the game? What were they looking at? This is why I hate replay.

LIGHTNING STRIKING TWICE… Mr. Hoffarber is no stranger to last-second miracle shots. The Big 10 network showed a clip of him making a tying three-point buzzer-beater to send his high school state championship game to overtime: He was on his arse near the sideline, the ball fell in his hands, and he lofted a prayer that swished.

KUDOS FOR THE HISTORICAL REFERENCE: Mr. Busch, on his reaction after the Hoffarber shot swished: “I went nuts. I was like Jim Valvano looking for someone to hug.” Mr. Busch was -5 years old when Mr. Valvano’s NC State team beat Houston because Hakeem didn’t box out.

Epilogue
The Big Ten network, who otherwise did a masterful job covering this game, sent their cheerleader-shaped sideline reporter to interview Tubby Smith and Blake Hoffarber after the game. What dumb questions she asked… “How did you do it?” “What was going through your mind as you hit the shot?” “How do you bring the momentum tomorrow?”

Come on! Ask them whether they practice that play. Ask them if there was any design to the play, and if so, if the play went as planned. Ask them how often they actually hit shots like that in practice. Ask about the poor boxing out on the free throw rebound that allowed Indiana to tie, making the miracle shot necessary in the first place. Or even ask Mr. Hoffarber to compare this shot to his high school title game shot. So many better questions. Maybe I could be a sideline reporter if I got a boob job and a lobotomy.



A cultural perspective on the phenomenon of baseball celebrity worship[7]
The first major league baseball “game” was played in China in mid-March. In a tribute to the leadership of Alan “Bud” Selig, the exhibition ended in a 3-3 tie. Dodgers starter and Korean folk hero Chan Ho Park gave up one run in five solid innings.

After the game, Mr. Park was mobbed by a, um, mob of Koreans begging for an autograph. However, in a move seemingly worthy of George Wallace, a long line of Chinese police linked arms and formed a wall between Mr. Park and his fans. Much shouting ensued, Mr. Park begged unsuccessfully to meet the autograph seekers, some folks began to shove, the police wouldn’t budge, things started to look bad. Someone from major league baseball seemed to negotiate a compromise, by which the crowd would disperse but leave items to be brought to Mr. Park to sign later. (You can guess as to whether Mr. Park ever received those items.) “The important thing was that nobody got hurt and nobody was embarrassed, not the Chinese, and not baseball,” said the Chinese security official on the scene.

Sounds really, really bad, right? Sounds like clear evidence that China is a police state where personal freedoms are tromped upon, with a heavy shot of racism thrown in to boot.

But hold on, now… it just doesn’t make sense that China, who has recently proven quite adept at importing international sports money (see World Cup 2002, Olympics 2008), would risk alienating the world’s third- or fourth- most powerful sports league in order to strong-arm a few Koreans. Let’s make an attempt to strip away the veil of American culture, and try to figure out what happened from the Chinese perspective. I asked Woodberry Chinese professor Scott Navitsky, who has lived and studied extensively in China, to help me out here.

First of all, as the original Yahoo article and Mr. Navitsky confirm, the phenomenon of the autograph seeker is rather foreign to Chinese culture. Americans see worshipful fans who want nothing but a signature and perhaps one of Chan Ho’s used hankies, while the Chinese police likely saw what they thought was a dangerous mob who might eat Mr. Park.

Secondly, within Chinese state bureaucracy, initiative by lower-level entities is not encouraged. The late Stephen Ambrose, in his writings about American participation in the second World War, noted the US army’s expectation that small-squad leaders (i.e. sergeants and corporals) were encouraged by their commanders to make independent decisions where appropriate. A similar attitude permeates American culture today – it is expected that a mid-level employee has some level of ability to use discretion in the execution of his or her duties. The excuse “sorry, I have to follow orders to the letter” is met with derision. Not so across the Pacific.

Paraphrasing Mr. Navitsky, these Chinese policemen likely lived in fear of an “embarrassing incident.” Had anything, however minor, happened to Mr. Park, the policemen would have been held accountable in a serious way. Orders, issued from very high up the bureaucratic chain, were to protect the ballplayers. A man-on-the-scene who countermanded those orders would have been punished, even if his decision turned out to be useful.

Furthermore, Mr. Navitsky rejected the thought that racism might have been a motivation in the incident. There is not particularly bad blood between Koreans and Han Chinese, especially in Beijing where Koreans make up a small but economically significant minority. More to the point, he suggests that had the crazy fans been Chinese, they might well have earned worse treatment from the police, who would have had no worries about creating an international incident.

Mr. Torre, how will you bring the momentum to China?
Someone in the American reporter pool actually asked Dodgers manager Joe Torre a clever if tangential question: “Which is more imposing, the Great Wall of China or the Green Monster?” According to the LA Times, Mr. Torre (or his speechwriters) responded, "depends on if you're a pitcher or a hitter, I guess."

And Finally, What Pricks…
Burrito Girl is taking a course at the Richmond, VA arts center on spinning.[8] Her goal is to obtain some pet bunnies, pet them, and make yarn out of their fur.

She has to sign a legal waiver, absolving the arts center of all liability should she come to bodily harm during her class. What do they think’s gonna happen, she’s gonna prick her finger and go to sleep for 100 years?

Next Week…
An introduction to the NachoGrandpa’s retirement pastimes. Tune in on Friday.

[1] “What could I do?” says Dodgers owner Frank McCourt. “They.. drove a dump truck full of money up to my house.”
[2] Presumably including the 41-17 demolition at the hands of the Vikings last November, but you never know.
[3] And, because Valpo executed the hook-and-lateral to get Mr. Drew an open shot, their “miracle” didn’t depend on poor Kentucky defense.
[4] Indiana hired Kelvin Sampson as coach despite the fact that he had lied about recruiting violations at Oklahoma. Of course, Mr. Sampson subsequently committed similar violations at Indiana, and lied about them, too; Indiana had to pay close to a million dollars to be rid of Mr. Sampson. Good to hear that the taxpayers of Indiana are being so well served by the administrators of their university.
[5] This guy is good.
[6] I still think there’s a good bit of coach’s hubris involved in “setting up” a full-court shot with 1.4 seconds to go. I mean, either you practiced a set piece for this occasion (like the Valparaiso hook-and-lateral), or you didn’t. If you did practice, all the coach needs to say is “run that play.” If you didn’t practice, it seems that the players are as capable as the coach of diagramming “throw a long pass, catch it, and shoot.” I’d be interested to hear from basketball players and coaches as to what could possibly be drawn up on the spur of the moment in a Laettner-type situation. Tubby Smith later told USA Today that he was hoping to draw a foul – a strategy which hardly requires a basketball Ph.D. to implement.
[7] Details of the incident described can be found in this Steve Henson article
[8] No, not “spinning” as practiced on stationary bikes in steamy rooms while an overly perky and vigorous woman shouts into a headset. Spinning as in spinning wool into yarn.

Report Card

Well, it’s over. I’ve been planning this expedition since I was 21 years old, and now I’ve done it. I’ll never know how things might have worked out had I come here at 21… but, based on my report card and my own self-evaluation, it’s good that I went the physics teaching route.

Today began with a rather lame student game. I neither umpired nor played. Nothing particularly exciting happened. The game was called in the fourth inning when the sprinkler system mysteriously came to life. The rulebook states that if a game is called due to the malfunction of a mechanical device under the control of the home team, that game shall be suspended, and replayed from the point of suspension. However, the “commissioner” declared a winner since this was the last meeting of the season between the two teams. Ho-hum.

This afternoon marked the school banquet, at which everyone dressed up in coat-and-tie, we heard speeches, awarded awards, and that kind of stuff. Immediately thereafter, we had evaluations. The atmosphere in the “waiting room” was tense: nervous folks, rumors floating everywhere of who did and did not make it, and so on. Only 25 students will continue on to the Professional Baseball Umpiring Corporation evaluation course in March.[1] That leaves 95 students who will not be progressing. Sure, about 10 of us, including me, were not looking for a minor league job; others will work independent leagues and hope to try again next year. But that sure leaves a lot of crushed dreams.

My evaluation was short and cordial. I sat down across from Harry Wendelstedt and Paul Nauert, who each shook my hand. They handed me my report card, which indicated that I was NOT in the top 25. Paul pointed particularly to the “attitude” and “test score” categories as strengths. They encouraged me to umpire locally, and to umpire the way I was taught here. I thanked them for their work, told them that the Wendelstedt name had already helped me make contact with my local association, and assured them that I would work high school games. And that was that.

My official report card gave me letter grades in about ten categories. I have some idea of the curve, now that I’ve hung out in the bar with my classmates for a few hours after evaluations were complete. It looks like students with B’s and B+’s across the board are good enough to work independent leagues; you need a solid mix of A’s and B’s to be considered for the top 25. I earned four A’s: attitude, hustle, voice, and test score.[2] I also earned three C’s: instinct, judgment (?!?) and positioning. All other categories earned B’s.[3] I would not have been considered for professional baseball, nor for the independent leagues, even had I been interested.

Umpire School is over. Sigh. It was fun, I’m sad that it’s all done… and I count my blessings now even more than I did before. Last night I saw so many friends who have lost direction in their lives now that they know they won’t be professional umpires. They talked about going back to jobs that they don’t like but that pay the bills. They brainstormed randomly about what to do now, where they’re going to go, how they’re gonna pay the rent, who might hire them… I don’t feel TOO sad for them, knowing that all are good, hardworking folks who will be successful at whatever they pursue. But the long faces, the attempts to remain cheerful in the face of adversity, made me as thankful as can be for my loving family, my rewarding job, the full (VERY full) life that I will return to shortly.

I’ll never forget my time here. It’s been wonderful. I’m glad I came.

But I'm glad to be coming home.

P.S. Please return to this site in late March for the in-season version of “Nachoman’s Baseball.” Until then, please send questions, stories, or comments to the Nachoman via email at greg_jacobs@woodberry.org .

[1] And, not all of those 25 will be offered jobs in the minor leagues.

[2] I got 247 questions right out of 250, tied with two others for best in the class.

[3] As with so many report cards, a couple of the grades seemed lower than they should have been… but (also as with so many report cards) a few grades were probably higher than I deserved. It all averages out.

What do we call that play?

Many of this blog's readers just saw one of the most memorable plays in NFL history. On third and long in the Giant [sic] game winning drive, Eli manning scrambled, somehow avoided something like 30 Patriot rushers, and threw downfield to David Tyree, who amazingly caught the ball against his helmet.

Every famous NFL play has a pithy name: "The Catch," "The Fumble," "The Music City Miracle," and so on. What do we call this one? I'm taking nominations.

Self-Evaluation

Years ago I taught physics and Latin at a three-week summer academic program. The fluffy bunny education professor in charge of the faculty attempted to mandate all sorts of her pet philosophies. One of them was the student self-evaluation. The idea was, students should take ownership of their own learning. Through the process of deep reflection and then careful writing about their own strengths and weaknesses, they become better receptive and more responsive to the teacher’s evaluation.[1] This professor even had evidence that requiring self-evaluations was beneficial.[2]

I rebelled.[3] I mean, forget about the fact that not one teacher took the self-evaluation exercise seriously, or that it’s a worthless endeavor anyway unless the students truly wrack the depths of their souls to discover and share their innermost vulnerabilities with the person who assigns grades. Sure, if I were teaching a creative writing course, self- and peer- evaluations might be worthwhile. But in physics? You either know it or you don’t. What good does it do for a student to write an essay that boils down to “I understand kinematics pretty well, but I’m struggling with electric fields,” when he just took a test on which he did well on the kinematics questions and struggled with the electric fields questions? And if it does do some marginal good for the student to acknowledge his strengths and weaknesses in writing, that good is offset by the time it takes for him to write and for me to grade the assignment – we could have spent that time actually addressing his difficulty with electric fields! And I won’t even get into the issue of an educational administrator mandating teaching methods rather than letting presumed professionals do things the way that works for them. (Can you imagine if the baseball players’ union had mandated that Dan Quisenberry stop using his signature sidearm delivery, effectiveness be danged, because that’s not how players are supposed to pitch?)

Okay. Now my rant is over. Ahem. I decided to, um, write a self-evaluation of my progress at Umpire School. Not required or even suggested by the staff, just a useful exercise. For me, in this case. Yeah. I want to see how my own thoughts jibe with what I will hear on Tuesday night at my formal evaluation.

Strengths:

(1) I know the rules backwards and forwards, and I can explain and enforce them.
(2) I’m loud, and (when I’m comfortable) I have a strong field presence.

Other students regularly ask me about rules situations, because they know that I know what I’m talking about. I’ve never misapplied a rule on the field. And I’m the second-loudest student at the school, to the point where I’ve been the butt of several jokes.[4]

Weaknesses:

(1) The timing of my calls is still too quick.
(2) Though I know my responsibilities, in fulfilling them I often don’t react quickly enough.
(3) Unusual situations puncture my strong field presence.

All three of these weaknesses boil down to, “I need game experience.” Meaning:

TIMING: Way too often I see something happen, and then render an immediate decision. That’s good, right? Wrong. I’ve been burned several times by making a call before I’ve seen everything, or before my brain has processed what it saw. For example, I was the base umpire on a fly ball to center field. I knew in this particular drill that I would be asked whether the runners on first and second base tagged up legally after the catch. So, I signaled for the catch, and quickly turned to look at both bases. Both runners tagged up properly. When I looked back to find the ball in center field, it was on the ground. Oops! “NO CATCH! NO CATCH! I frantically waved… an umpire whose timing is good would not have made that catch call, even on a routine fly out, for two or three more seconds. I have to learn to slow down.

REACTIONS: Though my brain knows my responsibilities and positioning, my body doesn’t. Too often the body takes off one way, and the brain has to make a correction. For example, as the base umpire on Saturday, my legs read a ground ball, so they started to move off the line to get in position for the play at first base. Then – only half a second later, but still too late – my brain reminded my legs that if the grounder is to the right side, I’m supposed to wait for it to be fielded before I move. The same kind of thing frequently happens to me as a plate umpire: my legs might keep me camped out by home plate until the brain tells them to get their butt down to third base because a play there would be my responsibility.

Have you ever watched kids learning to play baseball for the first time? Often you’ll see someone who is a good athlete, but who doesn’t know the game yet: the infielder who has to think for a moment before deciding which base to throw to, the baserunner who stops and stares for a moment before he knows whether or not to tag up on a fly ball… well, that’s me as an umpire. Once I can react quickly to plays without thinking about them, I’ll be pretty danged good. But I need game experience, and lots of it, so my movements become routine and instinctive.

UNUSUAL SITUATIONS: Two or three times I’ve been flummoxed on the field by something that wasn’t supposed to happen, but did. One more strange thing happened on Friday when the instructor was evaluating my pitch calling in the batting cage. For this drill, a “batter” dons a helmet and hoists a whiffle bat. He’s never supposed to try to hit the ball, but he’s supposed to give occasional full and check swings so that the umpire can show that he knows what to do. Well, on the second-to-last pitch, the batter made almost a full swing, I saw the ball miss the catcher’s glove… and I was pushed backwards by a thump. The ball hit me. It didn’t hurt – I was, of course, wearing a high quality chest protector – but I couldn’t think for a moment. I wasn’t mentally prepared for a foul ball in the batting cage! I made the wrong signal (I should have called “foul ball”) and looked momentarily meek. (On the final pitch, I gave the emphatic and dramatic “strike three” call with extra fist pumps, which we were not supposed to do, but I did anyway.)

The point is, something strange happened, and I lost my field presence – I “broke character,” if you will. I suppose my reactions have been developed poorly by teaching for twelve years. I’m not afraid of looking weak momentarily in my classroom, because everyone knows that I’m in charge and that I know what I’m doing; if I need a few minutes or a day to decide a knotty, unusual problem, or if I truly was thrown for a loop by an incident, I do better by acting genuinely meek than disingenuously bold. Not so for an umpire, though.

Now, for all of you smart-arses who might want to use these self-criticisms as ammunition when you have a chance to heckle me on the field, recognize that I’m aware of my weaknesses, and I’m working to improve them. I will be better by the time you watch me. My strong suspicion is that, had I been eligible, I would not have progressed this year to the minor leagues. However, I think that with a full summer of work, say, in an independent league, I could have come back to be one of the top students NEXT year.

I won’t be asking for another sabbatical next year, though. Sigh.

[1] I think she must have also used the terms “actualize” and “paradigm” in there somewhere.
[2] The evidence was, she got herself a stack of paper to read that justified her salary.
[3] “You don’t say!?!” is the sarcastic response of those who know the Nachoman personally.
[4] “You don’t say!?!” is the sarcastic response of those who know the Nachoman personally.

The End Is Near

Umpire School moves rapidly toward its end. We have only three more days of instruction: Friday, Saturday, and Monday. Sunday we are off, as usual; Tuesday is closing day. We are free to leave on Wednesday. A quick update on recent and upcoming events follows.

The staff is in the midst of plans for Tuesday’s annual student game. We have been divided alphabetically into two teams who will actually compete against one another. The six-person umpire crews, which will change every half-inning, will be announced shortly. Additionally, the captains of these teams must consummate two trades before Monday. We have been warned to expect “shenanigans” at this game. The two stories we heard about last year’s game: (1) One team sent an experienced division I collegiate pitcher to the mound. He was ejected after one batter, because the umpires found a pair of scissors carefully (but not THAT carefully) hidden behind the mound. It is not clear whether or not the opposing manager, AAA umpire Peter Durfee, may have planted the infernal tool. (2) The game’s outcome was decided in the last inning when the defensive team successfully appealed batting out of order.

I got my graded incident report back.[1] I earned a “check”. I was dinged for using the word “incredulously,” and for a couple of irrelevant or unclear statements. Dan and I had to laugh… the two professional authors had their writing critiqued by a professional umpire who pronounces “carom” as “car-OOM.” Not that we dispute the criticisms that were leveled. Most of the red marks on my paper were thoroughly appropriate. I might write books and blogs, but I don’t yet know exactly what a league president really needs in an incident report.

I probably screwed up my chance at a professional baseball job with one pump of my fist yesterday. With Harry Wendelstedt watching my work at the plate, I called ball four on the leadoff hitter. The hitter knew he was about to be screamed at, because we have been told repeatedly and emphatically that hitters are NOT to take walks. So, as I was saying “ball four,” the batter swung. I didn’t see this swing, as I was (correctly) staring right at the ball in the catcher’s glove. The hitter protested, “but I swung.” I heard one of the instructors holler angrily and sarcastically, “he called ball four, so go to first!” My brain didn’t function; I wasn’t clear about what was happening. In a real baseball game, I would have had no moment of angst – I called ball four, go to first base. If the defense wants to appeal, I’ll just ask my partner, but the batter is not allowed to tell me what he did or didn’t do. But here at Umpire School, considering the implication that thumbscrews await those who take walks, and thinking that the sarcastic instructors are telling me not to allow the walk, I pumped my fist in the signal for a swinging strike.

Well, I looked like an incompetent idiot. Now the instructors turned on me – “Why did you just signal strike? Did he swing or didn’t he? You called ball four, right? What’s going on?” A flummoxed umpire is not an umpire who is in control of the game. I only made one significant mistake the rest of the day, but I could almost hear Harry shaking his head in wonderment at the poor dumb sap who can’t even call balls and strikes.

Good thing I had my conversation with the chief instructor that day already… In the last week of school, each student is asked whether or not he or she would accept a job in professional baseball if asked. I had to say no – not only am I contractually obligated to return to Woodberry to teach for another year, but I can’t see myself making such a dramatic lifestyle change at my age and with a family. Of course I knew that going in, that Umpire School was merely a lark for me rather than an entry point for a major league job. But still, it hurt a bit to have to turn down a dream job that probably wouldn’t even have been offered to me.

Tuesday night we get our final evaluations, and the twenty or so umpires who will progress to the minor leagues will find out who they are. Until then, three more long days of work. Stay tuned.

[1] A few days ago we observed a staged argument, and our homework assignment was to complete an “Umpire Incident Report” about that argument.