Friday, June 06, 2003
Moneyball is Worth the Bucks
When you're standing in your neighborhood mega-book store this weekend, I know you'll be tempted to pick up Hillary Clinton's autobiography. It will be difficult, but resist the urge. Instead, turn your attention to the sports section of the store, and bring Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game by Michael Lewis to the register.
Out of feelings of both necessity and curiosity, I purchased the book at Border's on Sunday, and am flying through it. Because I'm not finished, this isn't going to be the full review it warrants. Instead, I just wanted to get on paper, err...I mean the screen, some of my initial reactions.
The necessity stems from the fact that this is the baseball book of the moment. And in producing this modest site, I feel the need not stay to ahead of the curve, but at least to stay even with it. The curiosity stems from simpler reasons. I'm a baseball fan; it has a lot people talking, both writers and people within the industry; and I knew it would address certain ideas that I have wavered between being skeptical of, and inspired by over the last two years.
My main motive for writing about it in this space is to recommend it. Not in the off-the-cuff way I'd recommend a new brand of beer, or a new band or even a good novel. I believe this book offers a glimpse, and maybe more, of how the game that occupies our summers is changing. The thing that makes it more interesting is that this "change" is occurring right before our eyes. This point is important to note, because usually we get a chance to evaluate change only after it's complete. In this case, the change can be measured on a daily basis and then deemed a success or a failure.
I believe it has already changed the Oakland A's organization, and is in the process of changing the Boston Red Sox (it's certainly had an effect on the composition of their line-up this season) and Toronto Blue Jays. The "it," the idea that is at the crux of the book, is that evaluating baseball talent is not something to be done by scouts watching games and looking for perceived "tools" (i.e. canon arm, lightning-quick speed and good instincts). A player's worth to an organization should be primarily, if not solely, based on very specific statistics. The main one being on-base percentage (OBP), and then OBP combined in tandem with other stats such as Slugging Percentage and pitches seen per at-bat.
The character at the center of this change, or "revolution" as one scribe has referred to it, is Billy Beane, general manager of the Oakland A's. The book follows Beane from his days as a promising prospect to major league failure, and the philosophies he embraced as he moved through the ranks of the front office. It depicts the causes and inspirations for a total revamping of a major league organization, an organization in which traditional scouts are now deemed worthless and the manager viewed only as a public figurehead, not as an in-game technician or real leader. Players are numbers, evaluated by a system that baseball has never used before. It is a system that attempts to eliminate all things subjective (phrases like "Too fat,"Too slow," "Too old," "Can't-miss prospect," and "Five-tool player"), and replace those evaluations with numbers on a spreadsheet. This new system is currently being used to make nearly all player transaction decisions, from making trades and signing free agents to determining who will be chosen in the amateur draft.
This is Lewis' first book having to do with baseball, and he often writes in the voice of the men who have implemented this system, presenting Beane's (and subsequently, Sandy Alderson's and specifically Bill James') ideas as if they are self-evident truths, that only a simpleton could miss. He comes across not as an objective observer investigating whether these ideas have merit, but as a novice who is in awe of the innovation and intelligence of the men who are, in essence, trying to change the game. That's my one and only complaint to this point; it's more of a nuisance than a deterrent to the work as a whole.
Like the opportunity the Jays' four-man rotation could've presented, we have an opportunity to follow a baseball experiment from hypothesis to conclusion. To me, that's the most exciting part about this. The hypothesis of Beane and Paul DePodesta, his assistant GM, is that the ways that baseball people have been evaluating ballplayers, including high school and college players, is erroneous. The Oakland A's need to find a more efficient way to be successful due to their relatively meager revenues, enabled them to develop a system they believe is the right system not only for their situation, but for any team.
The experiment part of this scientific approach to baseball is being carried out right now. Not only in Oakland and Toronto and Boston, but maybe more importantly in places like Midland, Texas and Modesto, California. It's being carried out by players like Jeremy Brown, an overweight catcher from the University of Alabama, and Steve Stanley an under-sized centerfielder who played at Notre Dame. Both were drafted by Oakland last year. Both were players that no one valued nearly as much as Beane/DePodesta. In fact, Brown (the only player in SEC history with 300 hits and 200 walks) was not listed among the top 25 amateur catchers in the country by Baseball America before the draft; in essence saying he probably wouldn't get drafted. Beane took him with the 35th pick in the first round, with a verbal commitment from Brown that he would sign for half of a first round pick's market value.
The depiction of the 2002 Oakland A's draft room is the most dynamic part of the book to this point. It's some of the best sports writing, really dramatic writing, that I've read in a long time. It's a bit cartoonish in a sense, juxtaposing the Havard grad computer nerd in DePodesta against the crusty, old, tobacco-chewin' scouts. But it's effective, and has a sense of its importance: this was the moment, Lewis insinuates, that Beane truly changed the system and rendered the old one as useless. An excerpt:
Paul's list of hitters were distinctly not the guys the scouts found driving around. There were guys Paul found surfing the Internet. Some of the names the older scouts do not even recognize. The evaluation of young baseball players had been taken out of the hands of the old baseball men and placed in the hands of people who had what Billy valued most (and what Billy didn't have), a degree in something other than baseball.
As I stated, here is a chance to follow and scrutinize a new kind of baseball experiment. We're not going to have guess whether Billy Beane was right in who he drafted in 2002, a set of draft picks unlike any other in the history of baseball. We'll be able to follow their careers, see how far they progress, and ultimately decide if it made the Oakland Athletics a better ballclub.
I'll be keeping tabs on Jeremy Brown's season in Midland (Texas League, AA) not so much because I'm fan of the A's, Billy Beane or a devout parishoner in the church of on-base percentage. But I love to write about this sport, and this is the kind of story and project that makes that particular activity so damn fun.
Jeremy Brown, Midland RockHounds, AA season to date:
.275, 182 AB, 3 HR, 29 RBI, 38 BB, 27 K, .374 SLG, .401 OBP
Brown's 38 bases on balls lead the Texas League.
When you're standing in your neighborhood mega-book store this weekend, I know you'll be tempted to pick up Hillary Clinton's autobiography. It will be difficult, but resist the urge. Instead, turn your attention to the sports section of the store, and bring Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game by Michael Lewis to the register.
Out of feelings of both necessity and curiosity, I purchased the book at Border's on Sunday, and am flying through it. Because I'm not finished, this isn't going to be the full review it warrants. Instead, I just wanted to get on paper, err...I mean the screen, some of my initial reactions.
The necessity stems from the fact that this is the baseball book of the moment. And in producing this modest site, I feel the need not stay to ahead of the curve, but at least to stay even with it. The curiosity stems from simpler reasons. I'm a baseball fan; it has a lot people talking, both writers and people within the industry; and I knew it would address certain ideas that I have wavered between being skeptical of, and inspired by over the last two years.
My main motive for writing about it in this space is to recommend it. Not in the off-the-cuff way I'd recommend a new brand of beer, or a new band or even a good novel. I believe this book offers a glimpse, and maybe more, of how the game that occupies our summers is changing. The thing that makes it more interesting is that this "change" is occurring right before our eyes. This point is important to note, because usually we get a chance to evaluate change only after it's complete. In this case, the change can be measured on a daily basis and then deemed a success or a failure.
I believe it has already changed the Oakland A's organization, and is in the process of changing the Boston Red Sox (it's certainly had an effect on the composition of their line-up this season) and Toronto Blue Jays. The "it," the idea that is at the crux of the book, is that evaluating baseball talent is not something to be done by scouts watching games and looking for perceived "tools" (i.e. canon arm, lightning-quick speed and good instincts). A player's worth to an organization should be primarily, if not solely, based on very specific statistics. The main one being on-base percentage (OBP), and then OBP combined in tandem with other stats such as Slugging Percentage and pitches seen per at-bat.
The character at the center of this change, or "revolution" as one scribe has referred to it, is Billy Beane, general manager of the Oakland A's. The book follows Beane from his days as a promising prospect to major league failure, and the philosophies he embraced as he moved through the ranks of the front office. It depicts the causes and inspirations for a total revamping of a major league organization, an organization in which traditional scouts are now deemed worthless and the manager viewed only as a public figurehead, not as an in-game technician or real leader. Players are numbers, evaluated by a system that baseball has never used before. It is a system that attempts to eliminate all things subjective (phrases like "Too fat,"Too slow," "Too old," "Can't-miss prospect," and "Five-tool player"), and replace those evaluations with numbers on a spreadsheet. This new system is currently being used to make nearly all player transaction decisions, from making trades and signing free agents to determining who will be chosen in the amateur draft.
This is Lewis' first book having to do with baseball, and he often writes in the voice of the men who have implemented this system, presenting Beane's (and subsequently, Sandy Alderson's and specifically Bill James') ideas as if they are self-evident truths, that only a simpleton could miss. He comes across not as an objective observer investigating whether these ideas have merit, but as a novice who is in awe of the innovation and intelligence of the men who are, in essence, trying to change the game. That's my one and only complaint to this point; it's more of a nuisance than a deterrent to the work as a whole.
Like the opportunity the Jays' four-man rotation could've presented, we have an opportunity to follow a baseball experiment from hypothesis to conclusion. To me, that's the most exciting part about this. The hypothesis of Beane and Paul DePodesta, his assistant GM, is that the ways that baseball people have been evaluating ballplayers, including high school and college players, is erroneous. The Oakland A's need to find a more efficient way to be successful due to their relatively meager revenues, enabled them to develop a system they believe is the right system not only for their situation, but for any team.
The experiment part of this scientific approach to baseball is being carried out right now. Not only in Oakland and Toronto and Boston, but maybe more importantly in places like Midland, Texas and Modesto, California. It's being carried out by players like Jeremy Brown, an overweight catcher from the University of Alabama, and Steve Stanley an under-sized centerfielder who played at Notre Dame. Both were drafted by Oakland last year. Both were players that no one valued nearly as much as Beane/DePodesta. In fact, Brown (the only player in SEC history with 300 hits and 200 walks) was not listed among the top 25 amateur catchers in the country by Baseball America before the draft; in essence saying he probably wouldn't get drafted. Beane took him with the 35th pick in the first round, with a verbal commitment from Brown that he would sign for half of a first round pick's market value.
The depiction of the 2002 Oakland A's draft room is the most dynamic part of the book to this point. It's some of the best sports writing, really dramatic writing, that I've read in a long time. It's a bit cartoonish in a sense, juxtaposing the Havard grad computer nerd in DePodesta against the crusty, old, tobacco-chewin' scouts. But it's effective, and has a sense of its importance: this was the moment, Lewis insinuates, that Beane truly changed the system and rendered the old one as useless. An excerpt:
Paul's list of hitters were distinctly not the guys the scouts found driving around. There were guys Paul found surfing the Internet. Some of the names the older scouts do not even recognize. The evaluation of young baseball players had been taken out of the hands of the old baseball men and placed in the hands of people who had what Billy valued most (and what Billy didn't have), a degree in something other than baseball.
As I stated, here is a chance to follow and scrutinize a new kind of baseball experiment. We're not going to have guess whether Billy Beane was right in who he drafted in 2002, a set of draft picks unlike any other in the history of baseball. We'll be able to follow their careers, see how far they progress, and ultimately decide if it made the Oakland Athletics a better ballclub.
I'll be keeping tabs on Jeremy Brown's season in Midland (Texas League, AA) not so much because I'm fan of the A's, Billy Beane or a devout parishoner in the church of on-base percentage. But I love to write about this sport, and this is the kind of story and project that makes that particular activity so damn fun.
Jeremy Brown, Midland RockHounds, AA season to date:
.275, 182 AB, 3 HR, 29 RBI, 38 BB, 27 K, .374 SLG, .401 OBP
Brown's 38 bases on balls lead the Texas League.
