Can't we all just get along?

It may already feel like an eternity ago, but just last week Richard "Goose" Gossage was elected to be enshrined in the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. As has become the rite of baseball muses every, they build up to the day of the announcement with arguments of who should be in, who shouldn't, and, if they are fortunate enough to be a member of the Baseball Writers Association of America, who they voted for and why.

This exchange of words in the written public forums has ascended to a different level in recent years, correlating with the rise in many fan's appreciation of statistical methods used to analyze players in the post Moneyball world. I'll direct you to Rich Lederer's Baseball Analysts blog entries to see what I mean, as well my initial inspiration for this entries' topic. I'll pause here so you can read both entries, and then come back with the rest of the topic.


*musical interlude featuring Nancy Faust playing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" on the organ at Comiskey (no sound link, so use your imagination!)*



Ok, so now that you've read that (you did read, right), you may have noticed someone taking his Louisville Slugger of logic and sabermetric evidence to shred a well known writer at the Eastern Sports Programming Network (ESPN for short). This conflict is not a novel one, nor is it isolated. There are tons of words on various respected sites and in respected publications which detail this battle royale. Trust me, I spared you reading a sentence where every word was linked there it's that massive. But the conflict still seems to manifest itself in pieces like Mr. Lederer's and Mr. Olney's. And I, among others who have written well before me, can't understand why.

A little insight on my background: My day job is as a marketing statistician for a specialty retailer of outdoor gear. Besides the fact that I have no shame in plugging my company's website which you will hopefully buy from someday, my job isn't one where I get to look at numbers all day and tell people what my conclusions are and why they are right. It's a conversation between myself and whoever is the beneficiary of the analysis, be it a marketing analyst, product manager, or other person in the company. This provides valuable information that I cannot gather through the methods I use to analyze the numerical data as I am charged to do. Likewise, whoever receives my conclusions will be wise to incorporate them in with what he/she already knows from their job, and then use it to better their strategies.

At this point in time, many Major League organizations have accepted this idea (including some who seem poised to keep my Sox in a Cubs-like drought unless my team changes tactics), incorporating statistical analysis into their evaluation of ballplayers. And likewise, I believe many sabermetricians, including my amateur self, would love to incorporate a major league scout's report on a player into what we do. Heck, Tangotiger even set up a Fan's Scouting Report to try and provide this very type of insight, assuming that the population will average itself out into a viable scouting report on a player.

That leaves us one group that hasn't fully given in, but probably in part out of self preservation: the amateurish scouts known as professional baseball writers, who go to games and write about the teams. Now, you could say it is in their interest to keep taking a hard line on the scouting side since their profession not only favors that type of analysis, but also it makes for good copy in the modern environment. I, on the other hand, think that it is simpler than that conspiracy theory: some people just haven't thought it through, and a sizable number of them have a voice with this nation's newspapers, radio stations, and television networks. Rather, they see things in the following order:
- Find interesting topic for debate
- Pick a side
- Argue like hell for that side, occasionally disregarding logic in favor of meeting deadlines
- Repeat for next column/post/segment
Can anyone in the class tell me what's wrong with that?

Right-o kids, they make up their minds then find reasons to support their claim rather than inverting the process. Maybe that's why we have so many lawyers in this country. Or maybe that's why our narrow mindedness has lead us to where we stand at today. Statheads vs. Scouts may seem like a trifle debate, but it could very easily be a microcosm for our society, where we all need to show a little more thought and do a little more research before doing things and drawing conclusions.

Care to see the stats?

Cheese!

Today is a national holiday in one "nation", the same as it has been for generations. It's the NFL playoffs, and Packerland is back involved once again. As a "citizen" currently clad in the replica uniform of a gentleman from Kiln, MS and a bona fide triangular shape of foam, I too share the excitement of many Cheeseheads from coast to coast, rooting for the real America's Team (apologies to Irving, TX for any bruised egos.... only if your does not beat ours again this year).

I settle into my throne, beverage nearby, awaiting this kickoff. Today's roadblock call themselves the Seahawks, which are only menacing in the hundreds anyway. They only brought 70-80, so we're safe with our frozen meat packers. Snow falls lightly, a true sign that playoff football and Lambeau are made for each other like a Billy Goat and barren foul poles awaiting of pennants in the World's Largest Beer Garden.

The ball is kicked off, and the game begins. A bobble on the return seems harmless, but is a harbinger of things to come. A bobble on the first play from scrimmage, a screen pass, has this "fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, shame on you" feel to it. So much so that I blink and my beloved Pack are already down seven. The next sequence requires a journey into my dangerous mind to fully appreciate the stream of thought that governed my reactions:
- "It's OK. Just a lucky early break. Shake it off."
- "Well, at least he caught the ball off the kick this time."
- "Way to go kid! That's the way to say you're not living in your past mistakes."
- "Beautiful run up the mid....dle....."
- "WHAT THE $%^&$@!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
- "2 fumbles, 2 TDs. And the field is getting whiter like my shocked face."
At this point, I'm saying "thank goodness" for the fact that all this happened in about 1/20 of the game time while praying that the inexperience in this situation for 99% percent of the team doesn't spiral into panic.

Thankfully, the aforementioned gentleman from Kiln (or is it an actual kiln, considering how tough and hardened 38 years can make a man) takes over. 6 passes later, a 2-man audible to a pass results in the shock deficit being halved and the youthful team remembering it's just a football game out there, nothing more. Then the defense remembers it has to uphold its end of the bargain too and to not be a doormat to touchdowns all day. So they force a punt, and the little running back who served up the fumbles in the first place remembers how to play like an alum of the University of the Golden Dome should. So he scores to atone for one mistake.

201 yards and 2 more TDs later, Mr. Grant has more than atoned for his early errors, helping my beloved Pack score touchdowns on six consecutive offensive possessions. I will Bang on the Drum All Day while enjoying this rout.

New directions

When TIME magazine finally does its end of the year review, they'll likely be calling 2008 a significant "year of change". "Change" itself will be the buzzword of the year by summer, courtesy of an election year where every candidate will have one fundamental goal to promote the occurrence of change that for some reason only seems to be talked about every 4 years.

Well, forget all the talk for change by the candidates of the Chan... I mean, Democratic Party, for a moment. Here's what changing here at MitchMusings:

• You may have noticed the new subtitle already. I resolve to make this blog look like it's not done by a total novice, just an amateur.
• You may also have noticed the frequency (or lack) of posts. Expect that to change (which gives you one more thing to read online if you so choose), at least to 1 every few days.
  
• Last, but certainly not least, I hope to live up to what I promised this blog would be at the outset. If I lack the content you expect, let your presence be felt.

So with that, I sign off for now. Expect another post soon.

While you wait, here's a brilliant observation on the election by one of my favorite columnists.

The bitter cold of winter

I could probably title this post "Confessions of a dangerous mind", but at the moment it's in the teens outside, with snow having fallen just about every other day for the past week, so I'll just stick with what you see above.

If your above the age of 16, you may want to sit back and reflect on these questions:
"Who do I seem to live my life like?"
"What events have impacted how I see the world?"
And the most dangerous question of all..... "Why are things the way they are?"
A recurring spat of bitterness led me to these questions about my own life, and if the following reflection helps you in any way figure out something about your life, then thank the Lord, not me.

I can pinpoint the day I became an angry man. The date is irrelevant, but the events are far from that. Sophomore year of college is typically a year when after getting your feet wet the year before you start to dive in and see how far you can go, and thus set your sights accordingly. I had been a very involved resident in my dorm, which conveniently was attached to the campus Newman center, where I was also involved in a lot of different activities. I was also maintaining my usually high GPA (not a 4.0, but still good), and I had my sights set on 1 simple role: Resident Advisor. When it came time to apply, I knew that the going would be tough, as there were others, many whom I had befriended, who also made good candidates. There was also a dearth of available positions, as only 2 would even be brought on as RAs. unlike the 5 of the prior year. I realized I wasn't a shoe in for one of the open slots, but figured with my record that I'd at least receive an interview.

Sophomoric folly #1: Assume something will happen and have no thought about the alternative result.

The interview list gets posted, and I'm overlooked without an interview. Worse, I see a name of someone who I know won't make a good RA, but happened to be good friends with one of the current female RAs, and wonder how on Earth he was chosen over me. I'm pretty sure people could see the steam spewing out my ears when I was in this rage. It was bad enough I even bitched about it to one of the RAs that it was ridiculous. My rationalizing of events to try and soothe things didn't do much either. Passed over because of RAs trying to help friends when recommending candidates to the hall director. Directors keeping me out and trying to trap me into a box that I may not want to be in. Someone thinking I would overextend myself with all I was involved in. Nothing I came up with could ease the pain, as it was all conjecture with no solid evidence. My thoughts over how my college life would go suddenly vanished. I became an insecure 19-year-old who had to figure out what next.

Sophomoric folly #2: Carry emotional baggage around and try to ignore it.

This was something I should have learned already. It took me 3 years to fully grieve after my grandmother died, though part of that was the whole trying-to-be-a-macho-man-at-15 thing. Still, it was a lesson I learned, but insanely repeated in this case. The semester was capped off with my tanking on a linear algebra final after having things come pretty easy for most of the course. The next semester I land myself on academic probation. To top it off, my search for someone to open up to became a rebellion against an attempt to back away from the dating scene for the year, which then lead to my realizing I missed out on one girl who was really interested in my quirky self. Talk about a harsh wake up call that you're human and flawed.

Sophomoric folly #3: Just because time moves on doesn't mean things move away.

Earlier this month, I received a donation request from the aforementioned Newman center that actually runs the dorm too. It was the first contact I had received from the dorm since I graduated, found a job and moved out on my own. And I was pissed that it took them this long to finally send me something in the mail. Now, they also have this newsletter, which I never received a copy of, so that's a part of it. But the bulk of it was the feeling that I poured myself into that place for 4 years, not only as a resident, but as someone who was involved in all aspects of the Newman center to some degree, and never received a whole lot of recognition for it. Sure, I led the Knights council, but I was never rewarded with the leadership positions elsewhere that I thought I could handle. The RA ordeal was the just first of the perceived slights from there. Each slight left a chip on the shoulder, and while they're easy to ignore since I'm hundreds of miles away, they've refused to go away.

In one of my interviews, I was chided for asking for more money from the employer who ultimately hired me. I was told I was part of this "Generation of entitlement", where one thinks if he/she does x, y, and z, then the equation will lead to whatever it is he/she wants. He/she realizes that x, y, and z are variables that have a number of possibilities, but feel as if those actions in general have merited something that may not have necessarily been earned merely by those efforts. It's like being a pitcher who throws what appears to be a flawless sequence of pitches to a batter that has him struggling, only to watch that final pitch of the at bat be one that will most likely result in a strikeout, only to watch the ball get smoked for a home run. What's a pitcher to do? Learn from the previous misstep, grab the baseball and make pitches to the next batter to get him out.

So what do I need to remember about myself that in my pressing to prove something I cannot I have forgotten? That leaders first start as good soldiers. That you can't always get what you want, but you might just find what you need. That trying to prove something in the past only means you're missing out on trying to prove what you can do today.

Carpe diem. New batter. Time to pitch.

Some least favorites of mine

Things that annoy me on multiple levels at the moment:

• Maroon 5, "Makes Me Wonder" - Most of their songs have been decent and worth listening to. This one is where they take the leap from good band to manufactured garbage. If there is a more overproduced song out there now, it's probably because the name of the artist is a tabloid fixture (e.g. Spears, B.; Lohan, L.; etc)
• Buster Olney - A fine writer and baseball reporter, but he makes me want to smack him sometimes for acting like the crowds in Jerusalem who demanded Pilate to "Crucify Him!" His blog is a joy to read, but he moves to judgment to swiftly, (typically) prognosticating doomsday for baseball rather than letting history unfold. Thank goodness I never was exposed to him during the 1994 strike, because I'm certain he never thought baseball would recover from that either. So, Mr. Olney, please let the perjury trial of Barry Lamar Bonds run its course and report on it, don't speculate.
  
• Bush tax policies - It is extremely difficult to point to any single reason why our economy is regressing back to the days of Carnegie and Hearst. Increasing international demand for key commodities and an ever present desire to not be satisfied with $10B quarterly profits (looking at your, ExxonMobil) are probably just as much to blame. But the Bush tax cuts plus the massive spending on keeping an active military force in Iraq are the ones most prominent on the political stage, and with New Hampshire and Iowa just around the corner, it is likely something that will end up meaning a Democrat takes the White House in November. Remember, after all the political analysis is through next November, you'll have heard someone say "It's the economy, stupid!" as a reason for the Republicans not holding the top executive office (and Congress too, while we're at it).
  

Random month-end musings

A few thoughts as October ends.....

• A wise man today reminded me it's Reformation Day for the Lutheran Church. While Luther's 95 Theses have brought about many goods, the most impacting legacy is the fracturing of the Christian Church. As any good Bible Christian should know, Christ founded only 1 Church, not 500. While some may argue which is the True Faith, today should be more of a reminder that we all are seeking the Truth, even though our human condition may inhibit us from seeing it in full. We have been blinded in some ways by upbringing and the aesthetics of religion rather than looking into the theology and studying it for understanding. Let us work to change this.
• Why do I read more about Alex Rodriguez as a 3rd baseman signing rather than a shortstop signing? I think he's worth more at his natural position, and will be of more value there as well for whoever ponies up the ridiculous amount of dough he will ultimately get. While the White Sox could use him in this capacity, he is a long shot signing for purse pincher Jerry Reinsdorf. The Red Sox could sign him, solidifying their place as the "New Yankees" (especially if they resign Mike Lowell), but won't because Theo Epstein and Bill James are smarter than that to let Boras try to negotiate them like he did Tom Hicks. My wager is on the top free agent this year signing with...... whoever is stupid enough to pay him more than he made last year.
• The best player in MLS is not named Beckham, but Blanco. Watch tomorrow as he helps the Fire upend the top team in MLS, DC United, in the tournament for the MLS Cup.
  On another football note (soccer to my fellow Yanks on this side of the Atlantic), will anyone beat Arsenal this year? We'll find out this weekend when they face the famed club of Manchester United. Gunners Forever!
  

Why the Cubs shouldn't win the World Series..... Ever

DISCLAIMER: The author is a die hard fan of the Chicago White Sox, and still smiles at the thought of their 2005 World Series victory even after a year where they played bad baseball.

With the greatest time of year upon us, that being the month of October and the Major League Baseball postseason, it is a time of nothing but outstanding baseball night after glorious night, with a champion crowned at the end of it all. With the exception of spoiled Yankee fans, the supporters of the team that wins experience a joy unlike any other, the product of a daily grind met with penultimate success for the year.

Some teams, however, have managed to have this joy elude them and their paying customers for multiple generations. While some have sated their fans thirst (Boston in 2004, the aforementioned, beloved, and properly colored Sox in 2005), others have yet to achieve this. Remarkably, this year's edition of the playoffs features the longest drought in both the American and National League. The Cleveland Indians, champions of the American League Central division, fought tooth and nail with the Detroit Tigers for 5 months before galloping away like Barbaro's final quarter in the Derby in the final month, have gone since the 1950s without this taste of glory, coming tantalizingly close in 1997. The other is what many believe to be the most accursed team in professional sports, the crosstown brethren of my beloved team, the Chicago Cubs.

For 99 years, Cubs faithful have routinely attended the world's largest beer garden to drink Old Style and watch a team that for many years was middling to poor, with the occasional year or two of success, but none ending with a World Series victory to end the season. Naturally, many Cub faithful desire this to occur, and, since 1945, when the Curse of the Billy Goat has reared its horned skull, their despair has mutilated a number of individual lives (see Durham, Leon or Bartman, Steven). Yet, in this humble author's opinion, a World Series could be the worst thing to ever happen to that organization.

First, and foremost, Cub fans would lose their identity. The author has been lectured by his friends who belong to said group of Cub fans on how being a Cub fan is a microcosmic teacher about life. Not coincidentally, this is the same tune that Red Sawx fans were singing prior to 2004 as well, and now they have become like those spoiled Yankee fans, thinking its their birthright to be atop the AL East and challenging for a championship each and every year. So too, I fear, would this be the fate of Cubdom. A fan base that was raised up on things other than winning won't know how to act after the culminating joy, and it will act in a despicable manner after the euphoria fades.

Second, too much success will make the Cubs have to market like every other team. I mean, what other team can go 64-99, and yet sell 90% of its tickets? It's because the Cubs have done an impeccable job of marketing Wrigley Field as the historic baseball shrine that it is, creating a culture in and around the ballpark that goes for a party more than for a winner. However, winning will decrease the number of party goers who attend the beer garden as the victory bandwagoners climb aboard and buy out their seats. This in turns makes Wrigleyville less desirable for John Q. Partyman, and he goes to other areas instead. When the Cubs return to the mismanaged state that they are accustomed too, the ballpark will look like Comiskey during its lean years.

Finally, and perhaps most important in the author's opinion, the nasally dialect of the Wrigley denizen would become excruciatingly unbearable, particularly for my Pale Hose brethren. I would not wish this fate on anyone; some may argue it'd be hellish.

The prosecution rests its case. The Cubs should never win the World Series. Ever.

P.S. Note to those who are Cub fans: The Curse will die when you let it. And I'm not sure that's possible.