El Nino and the Sea Change

For no real reason, I got to thinking about baseball's Flat Earth Society and their ever-growing hatred of stats. Hardly new ground, but a decent analog for the stats revolution crept into my head. The giving guy that I am, I thought I'd share.

At the risk of meandering around and pointlessly wasting your time, I suggest this: think about the weather. Think about how weather is forecasted and broadcasted. Consider this, from Wikipedia.

In the past, the human forecaster was responsible for generating the entire weather forecast based upon available observations. Today, human input is generally confined to choosing a model based on various parameters, such as model biases and performance. Using a consensus of forecast models, as well as ensemble members of the various models, can help reduce forecast error.

The stat nerds have taken over the ever important world of weather forecasting. The similarities exist between changes in weather reporting and sports reporting. Were the Dave Duvall's of the world lamenting the rise of mathematical modeling and increased accuracy, steadfastly staring at the sky and reading their barometers? Probably not.

Sorry to waste your time with that digression. Here, a gift to you, from me. Randy Ruiz's swinging strikes from a still-small-but-not-worthless chunk of at bats. Dude likes the down and away dirt.



Update: Wooo. Look how much more garish that graph is now. Fancy! Thoughts?

Image here!

Liberation Frequency

I've been wrestling with my feelings all day. Cito & JP are already talking about next year. The trade rumours swirl. Dustin McGowan and Shaun Marcum are on the DL. The team is still in last place, despite showing signs of life last night. Me? I still think baseball is pretty fucking great.

I mentioned liberated fandom in one of the the first ever Ghostrunner on First posts. I still feel now as I felt then. I'm not going to shout "wait til next year!" now or ever. But following the team every day, faced with a sudden lack of distance from the team and its travails has me thinking differently. Admittedly, the last two weeks in Bluejayland have been difficult to write about. The Jays fortunes and real life distractions collided at speed, resulting in the slowest GROF week yet.

I surely get caught up in the W's and L's, the slumps and the roster movement. My self-appointed role of Elitist Fuck allows me to think that I'm above all that; the riff-raff that spill their frustrations all over Wilner's lap. But I'm no different. I regurgitate the lines of true baseballmen, of the season being long and 70 games a lifetime. Players underperform, balls bounce, umpires squeeze.

One thing that will not happen, no matter how many games the Toronto Blue Jays lose, I will not cease to be entertained. My aping of the Free Darko ethos is all over this site, from the Scott Rolen defense love to worshiping a oft-injured outfielder from a division rival. I will continue to watch Adam Lind evolve and excite, I will watch hoping for a glimpse at John MacDonald donning his cap and turning into Johnny Mac. I will watch Brandon League throw gas without too much thought as to where it's going. I will pontificate about batting orders. I will dick joke at the expense of management. I will sign petitions to get Ichiro into the Home Run Derby. I will steal expensive seats on a Friday night and boo those who start the wave.

I will not, in any way, advocate trading Roy Halladay. No matter what type of haul he would yield. No amount of wins, parades or Meaningful Games in September will replace the joy and pleasure of watching him work every fifth day.