Author: howard

What he did: I’ve written about the Splendid Splinter before, though I was motivated to feature him again thanks to a computer baseball game that I like. I’ve been burning large amounts of free time lately playing a demo for Baseball Mogul 2012, a sim that allows creating historical rosters. One of the niftier game features lets users pull players out of retirement, and today, I wondered how Williams might do on the 1963 New York Mets with their bathtub of a park, the Polo Grounds.

I plugged a 44-year-old Williams onto those Mets, and with other aging imports like Stan Musial and Yogi Berra in the lineup, Williams hit about .350 and helped New York to an 82-80 record (and that was with fellow 44-year-old unretiree Bob Feller going 7-22 with an ERA north of 6.00. It wasn’t pretty.) All of this makes me wonder if Teddy Ballgame’s 1960 retirement may have come a few years too soon.

Era he might have thrived in: For all their struggles, including a historically bad 40-120 in their inaugural 1962 season (which the demo won’t let me play), the expansion-era Mets were largely a veteran club. Their debut team featured the likes of elder baseball statesmen such as Gil Hodges, Richie Ashburn, and Frank Thomas among others, and at 43 on Opening Day that year, Williams wouldn’t have been terribly older. He might also have been a threat for the National League batting title and at least 30 home runs in the Polo Grounds, not to mention eight or ten more wins for the Mets.

Why: Most famous baseball players are pretty well done by the time they hang up their spikes or are forced to retire. Ken Griffey Jr. and Babe Ruth both quit at 40 after playing like men bused in from nursing homes. Steve Carlton made more stops at the end of his career than a kid with a paper route. Williams, on the other hand, may have had some more baseball in him, hitting .316 with 29 home runs and an OPS+ of 190 in his final season. Granted, his defense wasn’t anything nice at the end, though for a team like the Mets, Williams’ bat may have been enough to compensate.

There are other factors that might have made this interesting as well. The famously tough New York media would probably have been no problem for Williams who was excoriated and libeled by what passed for media in Boston during his career. I’m also curious how Williams might have gotten on with the Mets’ first manager, Casey Stengel. The Old Perfessor clashed with the conservative Joe DiMaggio in his time with the Yankees and once called Mickey Mantle his greatest disappointment, but otherwise seemed to have the temperament to welcome a hard worker and candid spirit like Williams. Whatever the case, I doubt it would have been too much to derail Williams’ stint as a Met.

I’ll admit I often wonder why players aren’t coaxed out of retirement more often. My guess is that a 44-year-old formerly elite player would be of more value than an average player ten years younger, and it wouldn’t be a bad thing for fan interest, either. When the U.S. men’s basketball program was in the toilet a few years ago, I thought it would have been cool to draft the ’92 Dream Team back into action, with ageless wonders like Michael Jordan and Clyde Drexler still capable of gold medal work. And then there’s Ty Cobb. Around the time Williams retired, Yogi Berra was asked what Cobb might hit in the modern game. Berra guessed .260. When asked if he thought pitching was that much better, Berra added something to the effect of, “Yes, but you have to remember Cobb’s about 70 years old.”

Any player/Any era is a Thursday feature here that looks at how a player might have done in an era besides his own.

Others in this series: Albert Pujols, Babe Ruth, Bad News Rockies,Barry Bonds, Billy Beane, Billy Martin, Bob Caruthers, Bob Feller, Bob Watson,Bobby Veach, Carl Mays, Charles Victory Faust, Chris von der Ahe,Denny McLain, Dom DiMaggio, Eddie Lopat, Frank Howard, Fritz Maisel, Gavvy Cravath, George Case, George Weiss, Harmon Killebrew, Harry Walker, Home Run Baker, Honus Wagner, Hugh Casey, Ichiro Suzuki, Jack Clark, Jackie Robinson, Jim Abbott, Jimmy Wynn, Joe DiMaggio, Joe Posnanski, Johnny Antonelli, Johnny Frederick, Josh Hamilton, Ken Griffey Jr., Lefty Grove, Lefty O’Doul, Major League (1989 film),Matty Alou, Michael Jordan, Monte Irvin, Nate Colbert, Paul Derringer, Pee Wee Reese, Pete Rose, Prince Fielder, Ralph Kiner, Rick Ankiel, Rickey Henderson,Roberto Clemente, Rogers Hornsby, Sam Crawford, Sam Thompson,Sandy Koufax, Satchel Paige, Shoeless Joe Jackson, Stan Musial, Ted Williams, The Meusel Brothers, Ty Cobb, Vada Pinson, Wally Bunker, Will Clark, Willie Mays

On October 13, the Pirates celebrated the 51^st anniversary of the team’s spectacular seventh game, bottom of the ninth, come from behind World Series victory over the heavily favored but universally disliked (at least in Pittsburgh) New York Yankees. In one form or another, Pittsburgh has continuously celebrated the upset since the instant Bill Mazeroski hit his historic home run in Forbes Field at 3:36 P.M. See it here.

The most popular event occurs annually at a small section of the old Forbes Field that was left behind for posterity after the Pirates moved to Three Rivers Stadium in 1970.  Hard core fans gather to share their recollections and chat with some of the players on the 1960s team. Among them are Dick Groat, Elroy Face and Bob Friend.

When it comes to the 1960s Pirates, it’s pretty much a non-stop love fest until Friend’s name is mentioned. Friend was then and still is now a fan favorite. We just hoped that the World Series would have turned out differently for Bob.

During the years that led up to the Pirates fifth World Series appearance, Friend acquired the nickname “The Warrior”. A quick look at Friend’s statistics explains why. From 1956 through 1960, Friend averaged 39 starts and led the league twice in that category. During that same period, Friend also led the league in innings pitched twice. In 1955 for the 60-94 Pirates, Friend posted a 14-9 record with a National League best 2.83 ERA, the first pitcher ever to record the league’s lowest ERA while toiling for a last place team.

Friend’s stellar 1955 and 1956 seasons earned him a spot on the All Star Game roster. During his three innings, Friend struck out Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra and Ted Williams and got credit for the win. In the 1960 All Star Game, Friend also notched the victory and thus shares the record for most All Star Games won. two. Years later, Friend ran into Williams.  Teddy Ballgame asked him, “What were you doing throwing me a curve ball?”

The 1960 World Series was a nightmare for Friend. In his two starting efforts in the second and sixth games, the Yankees shelled Friend. In game 7, manager Danny Murtaugh summed Friend in from the bull pen to preserve a 9-7 lead.  But Friend gave up two quick singles to Bobby Richardson and to pinch hitter Dale Long. Murtaugh lifted Friend, charged with two earned runs, in favor of Harvey Haddix. By the series’ end, Friend’s record stood at a sorry 0-2 with a 13.50 ERA.

By the next season, Friend had put his disappointing World Series behind him. Between 1961 and 1964, Friend continued to be the Pirates’ go-to guy; he started 35, 38, 36, 35 and 34 games while averaging 15 wins a year for mostly second division teams. In 1965, the Pirates traded Friend to the New York Yankees who in turn swapped him to the cross-town Mets.

Friend ended his career with a 197-230 record and is the only Major League pitcher to lose 200 games without winning 200. A Purdue University graduate who served as the Allegheny County Controller from 1967 to 1975, Friend still lives in the Pittsburgh area.

Among Pirates’ fans who remember that Friend at his peak rarely missed a start, we know  that if fate had dealt him a different hand– like say 15 seasons with the Yankees and one with the Pirates– his final totals would be similar to Robin Roberts’ and he would likely be in the Hall of Fame.

Editor’s Note: Please welcome my friend Thia Bonadies to the site. I approached Thia last week about reviewing “Moneyball” here since she may be the biggest A’s fan I know and has written professionally. It’s my pleasure to present her piece.

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So, Moneyball. Yeah, it came out. A while ago now– well, at least in ‘movie reviewing’ terms– however I, myself, have not read one of them. Nope. Not a single one. Unless you count typing ‘Rotten Tomatoes’ into Google the day it premiered only to see that the coveted website had given the Brad-Pitt-turned-Billy-Beane film a whopping 95% on their “Tomatometer”. Which is rarer than you’d think – I mean, as in almost unheard of. Almost. And, regardless of where you stand on the whole pro/con Billy Beane argument (which at this point is so zzzzzzz to me that even mentioning it makes me roll my OWN damn eyes), seeing something – ANYTHING – with a number THAT big, that also happens to be connected with the Oakland Athletics, is something every A’s fan is using as a source of pride. In fact, through some bizarre and non-sequitur form of mind-mathematics A’s fans have developed in the last few years – as a way to formulaically convince themselves NOT to trade in their green and gold hearts for a sparkly new black and orange one – that rating, and the movie itself, was almost, like, a reward for getting through the 2011 season. And, the 2010 season. And while we’re at it, the three seasons before that, as well.

In the years since Moneyball has become a technique in the baseball world, there are two types of A’s fans: those who are “with” Billy Beane and those who, well, aren’t. Me, I’m a member of “Team Against.” But, honestly, it’s probably only because that’s the stance my father has taken over the years and – doing his job to raise me as a loyal fan of the White Elephants, even in losing seasons, I just kind of copy him in every opinion possible.

The A’s have not had a winning season since 2006 when they followed up their ALDS sweep of the Twins by getting broomed by the Tigers in the ALCS. Sitting in the movie theater – which I saw opening night at Oakland’s own Grand Lake Theater (because watching it at another venue would be true fan blasphemy) I couldn’t help but remember watching all those games wishing and hoping for another outcome.

The movie itself was perfectly executed. And, yes there were some obvious places where the filmmakers took creative license to make it into a “better”(?) story. For instance, there’s a scene where Beane announces that he wants to have Jason Giambi’s brother, Jeremy, as part of the 2002 team. But, all of us A’s fans can’t ever forget (no matter how hard we try) that Jeremy was already part of the squad – no doubt spending 2002 reeling from his infamous not-sliding-into-home play during the 2001 Division Series, the very faux pas that resulted in the Yankees ultimately advancing to the next round of the playoffs. But, considering that Moneyball is a movie – and not real life – fictionalizing parts of what really happened seems necessary and not sacrilege. And, in general, although I’ve never personally met Mr. Beane, from what I can tell Pitt played him to a T. From his hot-headed temper to his mannerisms to his perfect hair, it was a movie that was more about Billy Beane, the man, than the A’s themselves.

From a filmic perspective, it makes sense that the A’s weren’t heavily featured in Moneyball. From the earliest scenes in the movie, Beane makes it very clear that he doesn’t really see the players in a personal light: he doesn’t watch them play– he listens to the games on the radio instead; he doesn’t take an interest in their lives– he sees them as statistics. To him, they’re merely walking, talking W’s and L’s and as long as he keeps a fair distance they’re expendable, tradeable, DFA-able, et ceter-able if need be. So, from this perspective, it only makes sense that screenwriters Steven Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin and director Bennett Miller would keep the A’s presence more OFF the screen than ON. Which, they do. Throughout the 133 minutes I spent sitting in that theater, however, I found myself waiting in on-the-edge-of-my-seat anticipation for the scene that drastically featured the personalities of that fairy-tale team. Because, the movie had to have it, right?

Surely no motion picture about the 2002 Oakland Athletics wouldn’t include a scene with Barry Zito – the team’s ace pitcher whose 23-5 record won him the Cy Young award despite not making it past the American League Division Series, right? I mean, there certainly had to be a part that showed Zito’s lovable downward-dog-on-the-field self goofing off with his “Big Three” companions, Tim Hudson and Mark Mulder, right? No? Ok, well there would most definitely be some sort of montage that highlighted the notorious twenty-up, twenty-down streak, right? Something that showed how truly remarkable that 2002 roster was, right? Just a little – just a TINY – something that showed them laughing, and fooling around in the dugout, causing us fans to think, “Jeez, these dudes look like they’re having so much fun – I wish I could be their friend,” which is what we were ALL thinking, be tea dubs. But, that clip…that clip that showed how absolutely infectious that team was – as a whole – how absolutely magical the summer at that dilapidated coliseum in Oakland was, how fun it was to watch Miguel Tejada come up to bat, how great it was to see Oakland in the MLB limelight, that clip just never came.

Yes, the movie included the A’s twenty-game winning streak – it’d be impossible to make a movie about that year in baseball without doing so. But, even so, the scene left me feeling hungry and dissatisfied. It made it seem like the 2002 A’s were a total fluke. Like they weren’t even really ‘that good’. Like the entire country wasn’t watching them. But they were. Everyone was.

When I left the theater I ‘got it’. I understood that a movie about Billy Beane, the man couldn’t simultaneously be about the 2002 Oakland Athletics, the players. It just couldn’t. Not when the two are so separate. Regardless of my longing for ‘more Zito’ (because yum!), ‘more Miggy’, ‘more A’s’, what happened as I was exiting the theater is what solidified Moneyball as a film for me: I heard people who said they didn’t like baseball say they ‘loved’ the movie. And, that’s what it was. A movie. Nothing more. Moneyball did a stellar job of showing that you don’t have to know anything about baseball, or baseball history, to fall in love with a movie about one. So, job well done, Moneyball cast and crew – or should I say, job HELLA well done. And, hey, it could’ve been worse: it could have been another movie about the Yankees or Red Sox…

Two weeks ago in this very column I predicted which teams would be the winners and which the losers.  Those predictions did come with some restrictions that might apply.  I also stated, quite emphatically, that I don’t bet on baseball, and I certainly wouldn’t recommend any bets be placed based on my words (even if, in the words of Pete Rose, I were a betting man.)  Turns out I was right on the money… about not betting on my predictions.

That’s why they actually play the games.  That’s why the best can be beaten by the worst at a drop of the hat and no logic can explain it.

As you may or may not recall, I predicted that the Boston Red Sox and the Atlanta Braves would make the playoffs.  I also predicted that the Philadelphia Phillies much vaunted and admired starting four would ensure the Phillies not only went to the World Series, but would defeat the New York Yankees.

Oops.  Double and even quadruple oops.

So what the heck happened?  How did the Atlanta Braves and Boston Red sox manage to accomplish the biggest freefall in major league baseball history?  How did the Detroit Tigers defeat the New York Yankees?  How did  St. Louis defeat Philadelphia?

I can only imagine the media feeding frenzy in Boston, New York and Philadelphia.  I haven’t read any of the “analysis” from those media centers but I  am certain that everyone from the stars of the team to the water boy has been blamed.

To this point, the proverbial scythe has lopped off the head of Boston manager Terry Francona, is threatening to do the same for Boston GM Theo Epstein and New York GM Brian Cashman , and there will be the inevitable questions for Charlie Manuel and Joe Girardi.  In these cities, making the playoffs , especially not making the playoffs, is never enough, only winning the World Series will get it done.

The rumors in Boston point to an undisciplined clubhouse and Francona losing control of several veteran players, players he was counting on to right the ship before it was too late.  Veterans more concerned with their paycheck and when the next tee off time was than winning a ballgame.  Veterans who seemingly didn’t care enough about winning and playing as a team.   No one knows for sure if Francona left or was fired.  He graciously alluded to the fact that he didn’t get the job done and made too many mistakes.   But he’s a corporate kind of guy with a loyalty not often seen in the world of sports.

The criticism in Atlanta seems to be focused on the overuse of the bullpen.  They couldn’t hold a couple of leads late in games over the final weekend.  They couldn’t overcome the injuries to the starting staff.  Maybe Fredi Gonzalez was too laid back.  Rumors persist that Bobby Cox would never have allowed this to happen and Gonzalez was too laid back.  Someone needed to light a fire under this team.  Apparently, no one did.   Apparently Jason Heyward having a horrible sophomore season and Chipper Jones being hurt off and on had nothing to do with it.

I was somewhat correct in my prediction that no team could beat the Phillies starting four more than once.  I got that one right if one wants to get technical about it.  No Phillies starter lost more than once.  Unfortunately, no Phillies starter won more than once either.  Halladay let game one get away early but settled down and his team came back and won it for him.  Halladay allowed only one first inning run in game five, yet lost the game. The other starters pitched well, just not well enough to win.  The St. Louis Cardinal offense was relentless and no one could get Albert Pujols out.   A different Cardinal beat Philadelphia in each game.  Philadelphia couldn’t hit and couldn’t hit especially when the game was on the line.

So you ask, what am I predicting for the Championship series?  Well, not the Phillies or the Yankees and that one I would bet on.  So there.

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“Baseball Present” is a column that Doug Bird contributes every Sunday that looks at the current state of the game.

Evidence indicates that Abraham Lincoln may have been among baseball’s first fans. And just as enthusiastic as Lincoln were his successors, Andrew Johnson and Ulysses S. Grant.

During the summer of 1859 the Washington Potomacs played, as it was then called “The Game of Baseball,” on the White House lawn. The team was made up of mostly government clerks who had social standing in Washington. Baseball was quickly taking over the town with its popularity.

At about the same time in Springfield, Illinois, Lincoln then a young lawyer was in a heated contest for the Republican presidential nomination. According to research done in 1939 by Steve Hannagan for baseball’s Centennial Year celebration, a Republican delegate approached Lincoln during a ball game in which the president-to-be was a player to tell him that the Chicago convention had nominated him.

Said Lincoln to the messenger:

Tell the gentlemen they will have to wait a few minutes until I get my next turn at bat.

As monumental as a bid to be the United States’ sixteenth president may have been, Lincoln was too engrossed in his ball game to forego his turn at the plate.

After end of the Civil War (where soldiers had organized ballgames between fighting), Presidents Johnson and Grant demonstrated the same passion for baseball as Lincoln showed. Johnson became the first president to watch an inter-city Washington game. Then by 1868, crowds as large as 4,000 fans sat on the lawn to take in the games and, on Saturday, listen to the Marine Band that Johnson provided. Later, when Grant assumed office, he continued the tradition by watching the games from the White House south lawn.

For decades, presidents and baseball have been linked. But, as far as historians can tell, only Lincoln put off his advisers so he could get in one more swing.

What he did: A reader sent me an MLB.com article about Derek Jeter over the weekend that contained an interesting bit about the value of good shortstops. The passage read:

Teams don’t regularly appear in postseason series if their middle infield is suspect; the Dodgers of 1974, ’77, ’78 and ’81, notwithstanding. Those who question the Hall of Fame credentials of Pee Wee Reese and Phil Rizzuto ought to note which teams played into October year after year in the late ’40s into the mid ’50s and identify the shortstops. Ted Williams identified Rizzuto as the difference between the first-place Yankees and the runner-up Red Sox.

The line struck me because Dodger shortstop and Hall of Famer Reese actually got his start in the Red Sox system. He was on the Louisville Colonels in 1938 when Sox owner Tom Yawkey bought the team for $195,000, with Roger Kahn noting in The Boys of Summer that “five thousand was for the franchise. The rest went for the kid at short.” Reese led the American Association in triples and stolen bases in 1939, but Red Sox player-manager Joe Cronin reputedly ordered Reese’s sale so he could play five more years. The Dodgers snagged Reese for $35,000 and four forgotten players, and the Red Sox went through seven shortstops during Reese’s time in Brooklyn, one for each World Series he helped those Bums to. Meanwhile, Boston made the postseason just once in this stretch, 1946.

Thus, this week’s column is about if things had been different and Reese had stuck around Beantown. In fact, we’ll go a step further with the idea.

Era he might have thrived in: After 1918 and before 2004, baseball life was one long series of crushing blows for Boston and its fans, purgatory punctuated periodically by close calls. This week’s column looks at if Reese could have made a difference in some of the closest of calls: 1946, 1967, 1975, and 1986. Try and name an elite shortstop from those teams. With a guy like Reese around to provide an upgrade, it seems unlikely the Red Sox would have gone 86 years without a world championship.

Why: Johnny Pesky, Rico Petrocelli, Rick Burleson, and some combination of Rey Quinones, Spike Owen, and Ed Romero. These are the men Reese would have unseated taking over short any of the years mentioned above. Of these players, Petrocelli might have been the only one not worth having Reese stand in for, seeing as Petrocelli was good enough in 1969 to hit 40 home runs and lead all shortstops in fielding percentage. Everyone else here is replaceable.

Burleson somehow finished 13th in MVP voting in 1975 hitting .252. Meanwhile, Quinones, Owen, and Romero hit about .220 collectively and suggest Bill Buckner may have gotten too much blame losing Boston a championship. As for Pesky, although he hit .335 in 1946, he was moved to third base a couple years later when the Sox traded for Vern Stephens. With Reese in town in ’46, the shift could have happened sooner and relieved Boston’s starting third baseman that year, Rip Russell who hit a motley .208 in limited duty. The stat converter on Baseball-Reference.com has Reese’s ’46 season with Brooklyn converting to a .294 batting average with 10 triples for the Red Sox. That may have helped Boston overcome St. Louis in the World Series.

Would Reese have the same legacy as a man who helped welcome Jackie Robinson to Brooklyn, refusing to join his fellow Southern teammates in signing a petition protesting Robinson’s presence? Maybe not. But perhaps Reese could have brought this same spirit of tolerance to Boston and helped an organization that would ultimately wait until 1959 to field a black player, the last big league team to integrate.

Any player/Any era is a Thursday feature here that looks at how a player might have done in an era besides his own.

Others in this series: Albert Pujols, Babe Ruth, Bad News Rockies,Barry Bonds, Billy Beane, Billy Martin, Bob Caruthers, Bob Feller, Bob Watson,Bobby Veach, Carl Mays, Charles Victory Faust, Chris von der Ahe,Denny McLain, Dom DiMaggio, Eddie Lopat, Frank Howard, Fritz Maisel, Gavvy Cravath, George Case, George Weiss, Harmon Killebrew, Harry Walker, Home Run Baker, Honus Wagner, Hugh Casey, Ichiro Suzuki, Jack Clark, Jackie Robinson, Jim Abbott, Jimmy Wynn, Joe DiMaggio, Joe Posnanski, Johnny Antonelli, Johnny Frederick, Josh Hamilton, Ken Griffey Jr., Lefty Grove, Lefty O’Doul, Major League (1989 film),Matty Alou, Michael Jordan, Monte Irvin, Nate Colbert, Paul Derringer, Pete Rose, Prince Fielder, Ralph Kiner, Rick Ankiel, Rickey Henderson,Roberto Clemente, Rogers Hornsby, Sam Crawford, Sam Thompson,Sandy Koufax, Satchel Paige, Shoeless Joe Jackson, Stan Musial, Ted Williams, The Meusel Brothers, Ty Cobb, Vada Pinson, Wally Bunker, Will Clark, Willie Mays

It was 1931, the Great Depression was well underway, and in Philadelphia, the Athletics and the Cardinals were playing Game 3 of the World Series. Future Hall of Famers Lefty Grove and Burleigh Grimes had been dueling for some time when a security detail arrived in front of the A’s dugout. Herbert Hoover had reached Shibe Park.

Joe Williams, covering the game for the New York World Telegram, captured the scene:

The crowd back of the dugout recognizes the President and there is a pattering of palms and Mr. Hoover waves a gray, soft hat at mechanical intervals, and smiles his greetings. An official box has been set aside for the visitors from Washington. Grove and Grimes, who have paused in deference to the President’s entrance, go back to their mysteriously silent labors.

And then something happens. Some one boos. Or it may be a whole section which surrenders to this spontaneous, angry impulse. In any event, the boos rise from the stands and break with unmistakable vehemence around your ears. They grow in volume and pretty soon it seems almost everybody in the park is booing. Booing what? It doesn’t take long to get the answer. They are booing the President of the United States.

With the arrival of postseason baseball once again and times in America not as troubled as they were in 1931 but somewhere in the same vicinity these days, maybe this scene could repeat itself. For better or for worse, baseball has had a way of uniting the political divide over the years, particularly come playoff time.

Sometimes the moments are happier. When Woodrow Wilson arrived during the middle of the seventh inning in a 1918 World Series game, the crowd spontaneously began singing the Star Spangled Banner, patriotism perhaps abounding with World War I in its waning days. Wilson had been having Francis Scott Key’s effort played at military functions for two years, and while it wouldn’t become the national anthem until 1931, the instance has traditionally been credited as the first time the song was played at a baseball game.

More recently, the 10th anniversary passed for the attacks of September 11, 2001, bringing to mind a moment from the World Series that year. George W. Bush, his popularity at a higher point than it had ever been or would be again, threw out the first pitch at Yankee Stadium. The former Texas Rangers owner tossed a strike, perhaps the result of genetics from his father who pitched for Yale or a bit of inspiration from Ronald Reagan, who once played Grover Cleveland Alexander in a film. The crowd gave a standing ovation, and an autographed 2011 Topps Allen and Ginter card of the event sold on eBay for $1,393.88.

It’s certainly the best reception a Republican throwing out a ceremonial pitch during wartime ever got in New York. Just ask Billy Graham, who was scratched from first pitch duties at Shea Stadium in the 1969 World Series because of controversy around the Vietnam War and Graham’s connection to Richard Nixon. A disinterested Casey Stengel had to stand in, and I just hope the boos were at a minimum for the Old Perfessor.

Robinson Cano, the second baseman for the New York Yankees, had a superb 2011 season and was the hitting star of the first game of the Division Series against the Detroit Tigers. However, let’s stop any talk that at season’s end Cano might have been voted the American League MVP. “Cano as MVP” was the subject of incessant chirping from Ron Darling and John Smoltz during Sunday’s television broadcast of the New York-Detroit series, but any such discussion is silly in my view. In the parlance of Moneyball, one simple reason that Cano is not the MVP is that he makes too many outs, the result of his being almost incapable of drawing a base on balls.

Cano walked only 38 times in 2011, which is less than any of the players who have received serious consideration for the AL MVP, including Jose Bautista (132), Miguel Cabrera (108), Dustin Pedroia (86), Curtis Granderson (85), David Ortiz (78), Paul Konerko (77), Adrian Gonzalez (74), Jacoby Ellsbury (52), and Josh Hamilton (39). I would rank most of these players ahead of Cano for MVP. This statement is not meant to imply that I consider walks to be the key stat on which the MVP should be decided, but walks are – or at least should be – one of the leading ways that a batter gets on base. And on-base percentage (either in isolation or as part of OPS) is a stat that I would weigh heavily for MVP-worthiness.

Cano had a .882 OPS this year, ranking 10th in the AL, and that’s about where I would place him for MVP. Cano ranks 26th in the league in OBP and 9th in SLG, indicating that Cano earns his OPS more through slugging than getting on base. His power hitting (46 doubles, 7 triples, 28 home runs) is central to his value as a player. If Cano could draw even a few more walks his value would increase, but too often he swings at ball 4, not to mention balls 1, 2 and 3.

Cano had a BB/PA of .055 in 2011. This walk rate is substantially below the league average, placing him in the lower third among everyday players. In contrast, Bautista, Cabrera, Pedroia, Granderson, Konerko and Gonzalez all walked at rates well above the league average. If you imagine that Cano had walked at the league average of .081 times per plate appearance, his 38 walks would become 56. By drawing 18 more walks, Cano could be expected to have made 12 fewer outs, which would increase his OBP from .349 to .365. Assuming that his being more selective at the plate would not also adversely affect his ability to drive the ball, this increase in OBP would boost Cano’s OPS to .898, which would move him up to eighth in the league, ahead of Alex Avila (.895), but still trailing Bautista (1.056) and six others. Even then, he’s probably not a leading candidate for MVP, although perhaps defense and intangibles could earn him a few votes. Cano would have to increase his walk total to about 75 or 80 (an OBP of perhaps .380) in order to be a serious contender for MVP.

I enjoy watching Cano play. He has a sweet swing and plays the game with an unusual combination of joy and intensity. He has surpassed all but Tony Lazzeri as the all-time best second baseman for the Yankees, and Lazzeri might well fall from that discussion in the next few years. Cano is a fine player, but I will be shocked if we learn in November that he has been voted the 2011 AL MVP.

Editor’s note: Alex Putterman will be contributing posts every other Monday going forward.

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Jim Devlin is third all-time in ERA among pitchers with 1,000 career innings pitched, behind Hall of Famers Ed Walsh and Addie Joss. He’s also third all-time in ERA+, behind Mariano Rivera and Pedro Martinez and right ahead of Lefty Grove and Walter Johnson. But Devlin is not in the Hall of Fame, and by no measure deserves to be; in fact, the 1870’s star played only half the ten-season Hall requirement. Into those five wacky seasons, however, Devlin packed multiple careers-worth of notability. From a full season of complete games to a disappointing Shoeless Joe-like end, Jim Devlin’s résumé reads like a baseball-themed Dos Equis commercial.

Devlin began his career in 1873 in the National Association, playing mostly 1st base for the Philadelphia and Chicago White Stockings (two separate teams with the same name, another bizarre reality of 19th century baseball) and batting .281 during his time in the NA. But as Chicago learned in 1875, Devlin’s true value was on the mound, where he posted a 1.93 ERA in 28 opportunities that season.

When the NA folded in 1876, Devlin jumped to the National League to pitch for the newly-formed Louisville Grays. Here, he is said to have invented the “down shoot,” a pitch modern baseball fans know as the sinker. With the unhittable new pitch as his secret weapon, Devlin went 30-35 in ’76, throwing 66 complete games in 68 starts (the team played 69 games, the last of which Devlin lost to injury) with a 1.56 ERA. At a time when starting pitchers all accumulated inning totals absolutely obscene by modern standards, Devlin led the NL with 622 innings pitched (tied for 9th most ever in a single season).

Devlin followed up his terrific ’76 campaign with one of the most remarkable seasons in baseball history. The Grays played 61 games in 1877. Devlin started all of them… and finished all of them, the first and only pitcher in baseball history to pitch every inning of every one of his team’s games. Although for the second straight year the right-hander led the NL in losses, he also boasted the league’s highest totals in innings pitched, games started, complete games and ERA+ and won 35 games.

But a calamitous late-season road trip kept Devlin’s Grays from the National League pennant that year, and suspicion arose that gamblers had a hand in the collapse. It was eventually concluded that Devlin and three teammates had taken money to intentionally lose games (Devlin confessed, blaming his “cheapskate” owner). National League president William Hulbert promptly banished the quartet for life, and so, with 1,405 career innings pitched (1,181 in the National League), Jim Devlin’s career was abruptly over. So too was the two-year existence of the Louisville Grays, who went out of business after the scandal. In the franchise’s abbreviated history Jim Devlin had been starting pitcher in all but one game.

If not for his banishment, Devlin would have presumably maintained his prowess on the mound a few more seasons and could today be enshrined in Cooperstown. Instead he’s been relegated to relative anonymity, closer to infamy than fame, noted more for associating with gamblers than for starting 129 out of a possible 130 games over a two-year stretch. But it’s both the throwing of baseballs and the throwing of games that makes Devlin such a fascinating figure. Inventor of the sinker, greatest innings-eater of all-time, and culprit of a gambling scandal? Those sound like credentials of the most interesting player in baseball history.