Hall Of Famer
Join Date: May 2003
Posts: 2,968
|
Article on historical perspective of statistics
This guy Posnanski has kind of snuck up on me lately and replaced Rob Neyer as a guy who has fresh ideas I like to read about (I refuse to pay the subscription fee for Neyer at ESPN). Plus he's a big Indians fan which scores points in my book.
Anyhow this starts off as a discussion about the historical relevance of statistics on Jack Morris and Jim Rice and meanders into a discussion on pro football defensive stats. The original argument is, "Is it fair to use new statistic to judge a player from a previous eras Hall of Fame worthiness?" His conclusion is yes, because statistics don't change the way a player plays. Good stuff.
Is it fair to judge an old player using new statistical measures? - Joe Posnanski - SI.com
Quote:
The question: Is it fair to judge an old player using new measures?
This question applies to everyone, of course, not just Rice, but unfortunately Jim Rice remains in the cross-hairs because he's just such a good example of someone who seems to shrink under modern scrutiny. In fact, I would say he's probably unique among Hall of Fame candidates in that the new trends in baseball analysis -- the increased regard for walks and on-base percentage, the deeper appreciation for ballpark effects, the more involved statistical study of how much a player really contributes to runs and wins -- have not been kind to him.*
In fact, while playing around with this, I ran across a statistic, something that shocked the heck out of me. This might very well be common knowledge -- it probably is -- but I have never run across it, and I cannot even fathom it. You ready for it?
The walk rate in the American League in 2008 was 8.6%.
The walk rate in the American League in 1979 was 8.7%.
I am absolutely stunned by that. Absolutely, utterly and completely stunned. It does not seem even remotely possible that with the famously high strike in the 1970s, with the batters supposedly swinging at everything back then, with our new and keen understanding of how important on-base percentage is, that batters are walking LESS now that they did then.
But it's simply a fact. I'm sticking with the American League for now -- here's a chart of walk percentages over the last six decades:
1950s walk rate: 9.7% (approximately ... the entirely awesome Baseball Reference does not have sac flies for some early years in the 1950s, so I had to guess on those, though I tried to guess high to keep the number fair).
1960s walk rate: 8.7%
1970s walk rate: 8.7%
1980s walk rate: 8.5%
1990s walk rate: 9.2%
2000s walk rate: 8.5%
You get that? Walks are DOWN since Moneyball came out. Walks are DOWN since all the supposed wacky-hacky 1970s. Walks are down since rotisserie teams have started incorporating on-base percentage in their games. Walks are down since these management types from Ivy League school started to crunch the numbers and realized the true significance of the free pass. Walks are down since high on-base percentage players could make money in the open market.
Here's another way to look at it, this time including the whole major leagues. Walks per game:
1950s: 3.6
1960s: 3.1
1970s: 3.3
1980s: 3.2
1990s: 3.4
2000s: 3.3
There's no way around it. Batters are not walking more now than they did in the 1970s. It's mind-blowing to me, but it's also comforting because it confirms what I have come to believe: The ability to walk is just that, an ability, a talent, like being able to run or hit with power. You can improve it somewhat, perhaps, and every once in a while a player will discover the walking talent late. But for the most part a player cannot simply DECIDE to walk more often, just like he cannot DECIDE to start throwing 98 mph because it's easier to get batters out that way. Walking takes too many distinct talents (including the ability to recognize balls and strikes, the ability to spoil good pitches, the ability to stay focused on each pitch, the respect to get that close call from the umpire and so on and so on).
|
__________________
"The type and formula of most schemes of philanthropy or humanitarianism is this: A and B put their heads together to decide what C shall be made to do for D. The radical vice of all these schemes, from a sociological point of view, is that C is not allowed a voice in the matter, and his position, character, and interests, as well as the ultimate effects on society through C's interests, are entirely overlooked. I call C the Forgotten Man"
- William Graham Sumner
|