Thursday, October 30, 2008

Fielding Bible as Worthless as Regular Bible

The Fielding Bible awards were announced today, and despite the Blue Jays being one of the best defensive teams in baseball, they were conspicuously absent from the list of winners. It's tough to argue most names on the list, but I'll place my homer blinders on and do it gladly.

A thing of beauty is a joy foreverAdrian Beltre and his +32 plus/minus was the third base winner, edging out Evan Longoria(!) according to Geoff Baker. Beltre's RZR wasn't nearly as good as local hero Scott Rolen, but he made an astounding 30 out of zone plays more than Rolen. Watching as many Mariners' games as I did, I observed Beltre charging weak ground balls and bunts nearly as well as Mt. Rolen, which is high praise as far as I'm concerned. Beltre was charged with 15 "errors", 5 throwing versus 10 fielding, similar to Rolen's 2 and 9 split. Numbers like that make sense for rangey guys, the type that will make an error on a ground ball most won't get to, but rarely throw the ball away.

In other words, it is hard to beef with Beltre. Longoria, however, I will contest. In almost identical innings to Rolen, Longroria got to fewer out of zone balls and made plays in his zone at a slightly lesser rate. Longroria started far more double plays, which I suspect is out of a third basemen's hands. Evan also made 4 more throwing errors, as I observed at 9:15 during Game 7 of the ALCS, likely attempting to throw across his body off one leg. A difficult play that perhaps 5 year veteran Evan Longoria chooses to eat rather than heave. The kid can play, but let's not play his rusty trombone quite yet.

The award for right field went to Ricky Guiterriez of the Cleveland Indians. Guiterriez displayed incredible range this season, getting to more out of zone balls than Alex Rios in fewer innings, all while making nearly 96% of the plays in his zone. Everybody loves Alex Rios, he of the (to paraphrase Jonathon Hale) incredibly long strides (range) to trump his bootybacked routes. One huge advantage for Rios is his arm. Over his career, Guiterriez has never shown to have anything but an average outfield arm, while Rios sports a rocketship powered by superlatives. Franky's arm has rated below league average at holding runners in place and creating outs on the basepaths. Were I to wager, I would assume Alex Rios slept with at least Bill James's daughters and wife. Minimum wife.

Unleash the Beast

Lyle Overbay's long under-appreciated defense continues to lack appreciation and pigment. Overbay had another excellent year defensively, but it still didn't compare to Albert Pujols. Pujols is a freak of nature with the work ethic of a desperate Cape Bretoner, yearning to be free. Most fielding metrics have a hard time with first base and the ambiguity of infield throws in the dirt, and I haven't seen enough of Pujols defensively to make a fair assessment beyond the advantage he has in most basic statistical categories. I will say Albert deserved the award out of fear of him crushing my skull in anger.

Most of the selections make all sorts of sense, though Chutely showed during the World Series that he's all man. Bill James and his apostles fine work is appreciated by novices like me, despite my attempts to split the finest hairs. Luxurious hairs that smell of sweet talking points and numerical intrigue.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

The Shot Heard 'Round My Loins


Congrats to the Phillies and, as I must add by decree in the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, Matt Stairs.

Oh, and Joe Maddon: When you pinch hit for Rocco AND leave your season up to Eric Hinske in the same inning, predictable things happen.

I'm sure it's the furthest thing from his mind, but Rocco is now a free agent. I will commence greasing the wheels of conjecture today and every day until he signs. OPEN ARMS SIR.

Picture stolen from teh Yahooz

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

The Globe and Fail

Of all people on this earth, I should be the last one to point out typos and oversights in our national newspaper. But if I don't do it, who will?

First we have this, from Robert MacLeod's piece on Philadelphia's championship drought.


I know Robert MacLeod knows Jimmy Rollins is a shortstop. You know Robert MacLeod knows Jimmy Rollins is a shortstop. Robert MacLeod knows that Robert MacLeod knows Jimmy Rollins is a shortstop. Then how did it make it to print and still sits uncorrected on the website?

The print edition of Blair's piece on Pat Gillick references the Seattle Mariners as the fourth place finisher in the American League Central. It has been corrected online, and Blair himself copped to the error in the comments section, but it's unsettling to see. Tight deadlines make baby Jesus cry, and good writers suffer.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Akinori "E"wamura


Six Gold Gloves in Japan doesn't mean shit when you're playing in the World Series. If you can't make plays when you're supposed to, you aren't going to win. It's just that simple.

It ends tonight.

Listen to Your Heart, Joe Maddon

You seem like a smart guy, and I'm sure you employ new fangled baseball stats on a daily basis. Today is one time to ignore all that bunkum.






Right FielderWPATeam Record in Playoff Starts
Gabe Gross-0.443-3
Ben Zobrist-0.020-3
Rocco Baldelli-0.044-1

Just do it Joe, you know it feels right. Your team has its back to the wall, facing the brink, is drowning in cliche. You have nothing to lose. You're getting less production out of right field than if you left it empty. Your team's won 3 outta 4 in Rocco's starts, almost in spite of him. But fuck that noise Joe, do what is right. NOTHING TO LOSE!

Except a fairweather fanbase waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It's just that simple Joe. He plays, you win. Everyone wins in the end. Everyone.

Update!!!


Joe Maddon knows what the fuck is up.

This post brought to you by the Murder City Devils and my wholly unsatisfying job.



Fancypants playoff WPA via Fangraphs.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Motivation in Tights


Boring Sunday, no real Jays news of late (if Adam Loewen plays another game at the Rogers Centre, I'll buy you a Coke Zero) and nothing coming down the pipe either. Ms Moseby and I head out to a local High Park breakfast spot, the kind of place staffed exclusively by Slavic-styled Ice Queens that populate this area known for Russian/Ukrainian/Assorted Eastern Bloc immigrants with angry blood and big hair.

Seated in my booth, enjoying bad coffee and hot sauce-infused eggs and hash browns, contemplating how I would go about filling this space during the coming dry season. I was briefly distracted by the petite, yoga pant-clad form of a young BoBo trophy wife. The bronzed flesh and platinum hair told me this wasn't the kind of woman usually found in this neighbourhood, the kind of woman that never misses a pilates class but doesn't understand why her kids have Filipino accents. She was older, and tanned in a way that Canadian winters couldn't sustain. Her grizzly bear husband rose, equally tanned under his professionally applied baseball hat.

Wait a damn second, that is no ordinary grizzly bear, that is ERNIE FUCKING WHITT! Awesome! Ernie Whitt keeps it real, staying in Toronto 4 months after being unceremoniously dumped by the Jays.

What should I have done? Should I have chased him down? Should I shatter the quiet, hungover serenity of a busy breakfast spot with a You the Man, Earn? Looking down at the delicious nitrate omelet in front of me, I chose to bury my head in the eggs, content in the knowledge that Ernie Whitt follows Borje Salming's lead and bigs up Bloor West.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Short Shrift for Shortstops


I want to play a game.

Which of my lies will you believe today?

Would you believe that I really need to be knocked over to improve on my barely league average, 33 year old utility man turned starting shortstop?

You know that can't be true, don't you? I've built up quite a cache of gritty dirtdogs here, but I can't get enough. Just like that little weasel said, I love collecting guys that remind me of myself. Minus the huge balls of course. Had I advanced past the bush leagues, I would have led the league in fuck yous while these raisin nutted-fruitcakes wait for the clock to strike twelve on the fetid pumpkin that is their career.

I don't care what you limp-dicked pencil pushers say, I've got plenty of quality kids in the pipeline. J-Jack? He's going to grab Efron-level ass all his way to the show. I drafted that shit. I built this team with my bare fucking hands. You see how many games we won this year? You see our run differential? I built a winner, baby. And my starting shortstop with an OPS+ of 87 coming off a defensive career year is my key to victory.

I know that guys with high ceilings, slightly off-putting yet completely manageable contracts and deceiving names are out there on the market. I know that renting a positional upgrade until the one true prospect I have meanders to the big leagues won't really improve my team. But that isn't why I refuse to make the move Suzy.

I've been here long enough, I moved all these into place pawns. If I give one up, I'm admitting defeat, I'm admitting that I failed. We all know I sure as shit don't do that. I don't have the privilege of hindsight, I get to decide which way the wind is blowing before I make up my mind. I could figure it out in a second, let me pull down my pants, I bet your wife's spit is still fresh.

When I crow about the flexibility of my sundry journeymen, you think I'm talking about multi-positional talent? It's straight cash, homey.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Darkness Warshed Over the Dude


If you are reading this, it means some of our technical problems have been sorted out. Hopefully. We'll have it all figured out in no time.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

100 Miles and Ghostrunnin' - Reviews You Can't Use



Before I begin, I must establish a few things I hope will differentiate this review from normal, useful video game reviews. If you want scores and grades, read IGN's effective review. In the true Ghostrunner style, I've opted for a more experiential, nebulous, navel-gazey, pointless, and uninformative approach.

That said, bear these two factors in mind:
  1. I am incredibly biased. Video games, especially those updated and released annually, do not exist in a vacuum. Each game must immediately be compared to the one preceding it, and games released by different publishers are produced with the competition in mind.

    Why do I mention this? Because I love MVP Baseball 05 more than life itself. While it only ranked fourth in The Reverend's early polling, I've played the MVP series more than any non-Goldeneye game ever released. I love everything about MVP 05, and while EA's licensing comeuppance was long overdue, it broke my heart. Every baseball game I play will be immediately compared to the game I know and love so much.

  2. I am stubborn yet impulsive. One of the first things I did with my XBOX Live account was download and play the demo for MLK 2K8. Which I hated. Without any real instruction, I was thrown into a new game without any prior knowledge of the control style. Being new to XBOX only made this worse. But as fall became more and more of a reality, I was already fearful of a winter without baseball. The game's low sticker price ($29.99 new) combined with my ever-smoldering yet nearly empty pockets won out over my inner belief that this game sucked. This would also explain why I'm reviewing a game 6 months after it was released.

Early Impressions


First things first, skinny jeaned try-hards from Pitchfork helped select the tracklist, so an early blast of The baseball-crazy Hold Steady is a pleasing development. More cocaine-addled mustache punk follows, including the nauseatingly twee Pete Bjorn & John. I'm a sucker for some Craig Finn, and The Cool Kids are awesome, so it's not a total loss.

The somewhat cluttered menu screen lets you select your game mode. Life consuming franchise mode to home run derby and everything in between. Everything except practice mode, which is both a shame and an oversight.

Getting the gimmicky swing stick down pat can be difficult, especially when you realize the batter's eye feature from the MVP series is painfully absent. Perhaps the batter's eye (brief colour-coding to assist in picking up pitch types) is gimmicky and unrealistic in it's own right, but trying to differentiate between a slow curve and high heat makes timing your swings even more difficult. The home run derby feature is cartoonish and in no way replicates the in-game hitting experience. You cannot practice pitching in any capacity.

In-Game Thoughts


I'm not completely resistant to change, so I will praise the Total Pitch Control. It's a decent wrinkle that keeps you honest on the mound. The instant feedback that retraces your actual path with the right stick aids in learning on the go. Another MVP feature I desperately miss is tracking each pitch thrown in each at bat. Not the broadcast-style red and blue streamers, but a one-button screen that shows what and where I threw in each batter's previous at bats.

A lot of time and effort went into recreating individual batter's stances and ticks. As cool as it might be to watch Vernon Wells kick the bat as he walks back to the box after a swinging strike, I wish more time was devoted to making the gameplay better.

Considering the regularity of Total Pitch Controlled meatballs that go for home runs, you'd think more time would go into the look and execution of the cut scenes and animations.

J.D. Drew isn't the type to show human emotion on the field, so when he goes into a long, showboaty bat-flip-and-saunter-to-first, it rings hollow. Especially after hitting a monstrous opposite field shot, which seems to happen a lot. Lots of opposite field power from guys not known for opposite field power. I must assume it was a long home run, as the camera stays tight to the fence and first three rows no matter how high up the ball lands. The inability to track these frequent blasts really takes away from the experience.

Looks Good.  Who Cares?
I realize that fielding is hardly the most glamorous part of a baseball video game. I know a few hardcore gamer dudes that set the fielding to automatic as they have no desire to play defense. If you've ever read this space before, you know that I'm all defense all the time. If only Take Two had focus grouped me instead of my homer-happy friends. The fielding looks and plays like chunky soup. It just isn't fun. Perhaps I could have spent more time customizing the camera positioning, but that won't change the herky-jerky nature of playing the field. The inability to throw directly to a neutrally positioned cutoff man is a pain I could do without. Let the shortstop make an informed decision with his relay throw.

Parting Shots


There are quite a few things to like about this game. Sadly, playing it isn't one of them. It looks good (but what next-gen game doesn't?) and the franchise mode is deep and engrossing, despite my inability to pry Rocco away from the Rays for a bag of balls. I love the inclusion of Win Probability charts and individual WPA's for each player after each game.

I'm a sucker for achievements (fingers crossed for my Hayabusa Sword) but the player card system seems weird. If you do something a player is known for, hit a double with Lyle Overbay for example, you are rewarded with his card. You can then go online and trade with some kid that will almost certainly call you a fag before the bottom of the first inning. Some of the rewards are understandable but silly. Make a sliding catch with Vernon Wells and you get his card. He's a Gold Glove winner, so it makes sense but I can think of very, very few sliding catches he's actually made. They should be more realistic, like the Alex Rios GIDP card or the Gregg Zaun 0 for June card.

In the end, this game does a good job of mirroring a baseball broadcast more than a baseball game. Some of the features are nice to have but if the game doesn't play well, what is the point? I forced myself to buy it but I can't force myself to play it. Looks like I'll be listening to ElectroChoc radio in the streets of Liberty City until Left 4 Dead is released.