Baseball: Past and Present

I was literally just asked WHY fans should respect MLB history — including that of each of its franchise’s (past/present). WHAT THE HELL?!

— Melissa Dickson (@WhiteSoxDiaries) April 18, 2013

Thursday afternoon, news broke on Twitter that Derek Jeter would be out injured until at least the All Star Break and the response was fairly predictable. While Yankee fans bemoaned yet another sidelined Bomber, opposing fans took the opportunity to bash Jeter and the organization. In the midst, my friend Melissa tweeted a call for fans to respect Yankee history and resist the urge to pile on. Of course that drew one person who argued with her. Melissa wrote the tweet above in response.

I met Melissa awhile back when I tweeted that I could name more members of the 1919 Black Sox than cast members of “Jersey Shore.” (In the interest of not sounding like an elitist, let me add that I can also name more Black Sox than current U.S. senators, Supreme Court justices or foreign heads of state.) People like Melissa and I are in a minority among baseball fans, particularly younger ones. I know full well how little use most fans have for baseball history. I see the traffic numbers for this website, pedestrian even when we’re posting good content regularly. I see the shrinking membership for the Society for American Baseball Research, even while baseball attendance has increased markedly over the past 20 years. People still love baseball, but its history most can take or leave. That’s unfortunate.

I’m drawn to baseball as a writer, historian and journalist. I love the stories. When people ask me which team I’m a fan of, I sometimes say I’m a fan of baseball history. It’s a little dorky but it’s true. While technically I’ve been a San Francisco Giants fan since grade school, it’s baseball history, all 150-plus years of it that I really love. I’ve been reading about it since I was eight and what I’ve found is that most every team has something cool in its past, something worthy of respect regardless of uniform colors. I think of Ted Williams serving in two wars, first as a flight instructor in World War II then as a combat pilot in Korea. I think of the Dodgers signing Jackie Robinson. As for the Yankees, few moments in baseball history yield the emotional impact of Lou Gehrig’s “Luckiest Man on the Face of the Earth” speech. Any opposing fan not moved at least somewhat by the Iron Horse’s words is either unaware of their existence or a cold-hearted cynic.

It’s not just baseball history that I love but history in general. I enjoy accumulating knowledge and anecdotes. I like the better understanding of the world the information gives me. I like to think it makes me a better writer and wiser person. More than that, I just enjoy learning about history. A writer I like, Sarah Vowell is, similar to me, a history nerd. Some years ago in an essay, she expounded on this, writing:

On the first day of school when I was a kid, the guy teaching history– and it was almost always a guy, wearing a lot of brown– would cough up the pompous same old old same old about how if we failed to learn the lessons of history then we would be doomed to repeat them. Which is true if you’re one of the people who grow up to run things, but not as practical if your destiny is a nice small life. For example, thanks to my tenth-grade world history textbook’s chapter on the Napoleonic Wars, I know not to invade Russia in the wintertime. This information would have been good for an I-told-you-so toast at Hitler’s New Year’s party in 1943, but for me, knowing not to trudge my troops through the snow to Moscow is not so handy day-to-day.

The other sort of useful thing the history teacher in the brown jacket never really said, probably because he would have been laughed out of the room, was this: knowing what happened when and where is fun.

Ultimately, that’s what baseball history is for me: fun. Its importance in understanding what goes on in baseball today is debatable, seeing as baseball changes from generation to generation and other tools are more useful for deconstructing the current game. Knowing that Joe Sewell struck out as many times between 1926 and 1932 as the Detroit Tigers and Seattle Mariners did on Wednesday night– 40 times– won’t explain why strikeouts are up so dramatically in the majors these days. It won’t say whether baseball’s gotten better or worse over the years, even if some may attempt to use the stat that way. But it’s a fun, quirky fact that provides some contrast. Baseball history is littered with these. (Another fun Sewell fact while we’re on the subject: He had six seasons with at least 600 plate appearances where he struck out fewer than 10 times. Who does that anymore? Answer: No one.)

In February, I got my eight-year-old nephew Jasper his first book of baseball history. From what I hear, he was excited to receive it. That puts a smile on my face. I hope he gets out of the book what I have (Ken Burns’ Baseball– one of my favorites) and is one day able to return the favor for someone else. To me, baseball history is too enjoyable not to be shared.

Hi all,

A quick note this morning to say that I have a new piece up at the Hardball Times. As some of you may know, Baseball-Reference.com added salary information and an inflation calculator to player pages not long ago. Using this info, I recently ranked every Hall of Fame player for their top salary in 2012 dollars.

Hope you all enjoy. I should have a new update here later this week. I’m itching to write about Dave Kingman, who had an infamous run-in with one of my editors from the 49ers magazine I wrote for this fall.

There’s something I’ve been mulling for some time now that I think needs to be said. I’ll try to keep this brief.

I’ve reached the point in my writing career where I only want to do paid work. My ultimate goal is to make a living as a writer, preferably a sportswriter. I worry that the longer I do free work, the more I sell myself short and belabor this goal. It’s part of the reason I haven’t written a ton here over the past several months.

I deserve to be compensated for what I do. All writers should. I understand that the Internet is a still-evolving medium as well as a meritocracy and that web publishers are still figuring out ways to make paid content work. That said, I believe we can and should help each other.

Effective immediately, all guest posts at this website will be paid. I’m coming out of pocket, so I can afford to do this a maximum of once a month and pay $25 per piece. (I can’t yet pay for participation in group projects, though I’m happy to offer trade: You write for my project, I’ll write for yours.) As advertising dollars increase, I’ll try to up the volume of paid content and the amount I pay per piece.

I believe paying for content is the right thing to do from an ethical, altruistic and karmic standpoint. I simply no longer feel right accepting free work while asking payment for what I do.

On a related note, I solicited donations for charity a year ago promising a free set of trading cards to anyone who donated at least $25 to said charity. I finally have money to print these cards. I have a list of donors who I’ll soon be reaching out to. If you remembered donating $25 and would like a set of cards, please email me at thewomack@gmail.com.

Dear Bill Dwyre,

My name is Graham Womack. You probably don’t remember me, but I attended a sports journalism workshop you helped put on in 2003 as sports editor of the Los Angeles Times. I was one of 30 college students selected from around the country to spend a few days at Hollywood Park horse racing track leading up to the Jim Murray Classic. It’s hard to believe as I look back but that workshop was my first exposure to Murray’s writing; a decade on, the greatest sports columnist ever (and it’s not even close) remains a significant influence for me. I also got to hang out with a bunch of other talented, aspiring journalists and rub elbows with a few working writers. Best of all, I think everything was free.

So it was with disappointment that I read your recent column, Angels’ Jerry Dipoto speaks to the SABR rattlers. I’m not the first person to speak out regarding your rant against sabermetrics. Former LA Times staffer Matt Welch posted a rebuttal on Friday evening that’s worth a read if you haven’t checked it out already. I was alerted to your column after another writer tweeted on Saturday that your piece might be the worst baseball article of 2013. I wouldn’t go that far. You’re certainly not the first journalist I’ve come across with little use for advanced baseball statistics. Heck, I feel like I read this type of column every few months and generally I don’t respond. I’m making an exception this time, in part because the group you bashed, the Society for American Baseball Research, is about so much more than sabermetrics.

I’m in my third year as a SABR member. I don’t speak for SABR or have its demographics onhand, but in my experience, we’re primarily baseball history enthusiasts. Honestly, we’re people who know entirely too much about baseball history: that the 1926 World Series ended because Babe Ruth was thrown out stealing; that Joe DiMaggio barely missed having more homers than strikeouts in his career; that Smoky Joe Wood, Denny McLain and Dwight Gooden all had more wins before their 25th birthdays than after. I’ve been reading about baseball history since I was eight. For much of my life, the knowledge I’ve accumulated has been of little use to those around me, a curiosity mostly. At SABR meetings, I’m around peers, many of whom know more than I do. I feel at home. By the way, SABR predates the term “sabermetrics” by about a decade. There’s no official connection between the two terms. Most SABR members aren’t sabermetricians, I’d venture.

Is some of SABR’s membership zealously into advanced stats? Sure. The event that you got your column from attending, the annual SABR Analytics Conference in Phoenix attracts this cross section. The registration alone for this conference was $495 with a member discount. I contemplated going because a bunch of prominent baseball writers were scheduled to attend and I’d like to be acknowledged for knowing basic sabermetrics. I’d also like to learn more. I decided against going, as I didn’t have the money and I’m no hardcore statistician. Anyhow, I have other things on my baseball bucket list that I might splurge on first. I want to attend the main SABR conference in Philadelphia in July. I’d like to do a research trip to Chicago and catch a game at Wrigley Field while I’m there. I’d also like to make another visit to the Hall of Fame, possibly when 19th century great Deacon White gets inducted this summer. I know I’m not the only member who thinks this way.

So we’re clear, I embrace sabermetrics. I didn’t a few years ago– like you, I once joked about the meaning of VORP– but after I began writing often about baseball, I found that basic advanced stats improved my understanding. The story side of baseball history was and is my primary love. But I like being able to rely on something besides quotes and opinions to tell stories. I’ve read of Casey Stengel bemoaning one of his outfielders driving in a run but letting three more in with shoddy fielding. I like that there’s a way to quantify this with metrics such as Wins Above Replacement that assess a player’s total value, taking all facets of his play into account. I like OPS+ and wRC+ that compare a hitter’s production to league average, normalizing for ballpark and era. For me, so much about baseball research is establishing context. While I don’t think sabermetrics alone can do this, they’re a valuable part of the equation.

That being said, I think the majority of SABR members hold true to traditional stats like batting average, runs batted in and pitcher wins. Jack Morris’s Hall of Fame case is a source of continual derision among many sabermetricians, as Black Jack has underwhelming ratings for various advanced stats; I read somewhere that more than half of SABR members support Morris being enshrined. At a SABR meeting in January, I took in a presentation from a fellow member who talked about flying to libraries around the country to look through old newspaper records to doublecheck long-ago RBI totals. I personally think RBIs are a misleading indicator of player value, since they’re dependent on a number of factors outside a hitter’s control. I rose my hand to ask this fellow why he wasn’t putting all this (commendable) effort into researching another stat. He tersely replied something to the effect of, “Well, you know, runs decide games.” I don’t know if people like this fellow would ever attend SABR Analytics. I suspect not.

I’m sorry you got the wrong idea about SABR, near as I can gather from reading your column. I invite you to give my organization another shot in the future. Perhaps the Allan Roth Chapter in Los Angeles could have you speak at a future meeting. Beat writers, broadcasters and other media members are common fixtures at meetings. I imagine you have loads of great baseball stories that a lot of us would love to hear.

Regardless, I close respectfully.

Graham Womack

I’ve been preoccupied the last several months. What was once a near-daily stream of posts here has dwindled to a handful per month. I’m not complaining, at least not today. In July, I got a full-time day job. In August, something bigger happened: I got the professional break as a sportswriter that I’ve been wanting for a couple of years. I haven’t mentioned it much here before today, but I’ve spent this football season freelancing for 49ers Insider, a digital magazine from the San Francisco Chronicle. With the Niners due to face the Baltimore Ravens in the Super Bowl on February 3, I’m struck by how lucky I’ve been.

It’s funny how life works. In college and before, I used to think only the most high-profile writing opportunities were for me. I wanted Sports Illustrated, the Los Angeles Times, maybe a handful of other places. I generally dismissed other publications as beneath me and loathed the idea of paying my dues as a writer. Life since graduation has been a series of continual lessons in humility. I’ve come to care less about where paid opportunities come from, with getting my rent covered and being self supporting mattering more to me. In my time as a writer, I’ve been paid to cobble together words on check processing software, stuffed animals and, my favorite, rubber bands. I’ve literally received full-time pay, plus benefits to write about rubber bands and other industrial supplies. God bless America.

My passion as a writer, which may be evident to anyone who’s regularly read this site, is baseball history, particularly anything quirky. If money were no object, it’s the main thing I’d write about. It’s how my mind works. It’s what I know. Unsurprisingly, I’ve yet to find a market for envisioning how Bob Caruthers would do in the modern MLB or assessing Smoky Joe Wood’s Hall of Fame case, but I remain optimistic. In the meanwhile, what I do here is mostly a fun hobby that I hope will lead somewhere. All this being said, the opportunity to cover the 49ers was unexpected and welcomed.

My association with the San Francisco Chronicle started last spring when one of my mentors who works there put in a good word for me. This led to a freelance piece in July on 1930s San Francisco baseball player Tony Gomez. After that ran, I kept up with the sports editor in hopes of generating more freelance. The baseball ideas I pitched didn’t go anywhere, though my editor mentioned the Niners magazine and suggested I focus on that. I was happy to do so. (If the Chronicle wanted me to cover backgammon, I’d do it, even if I’m not really sure what backgammon is.) I started out in September contributing weekly previews of 49er games, breaking down positional matchups. From there, my role expanded.

In October, I made my first trip to Niners’ team headquarters in Santa Clara for a feature on defensive back Tarell Brown where I met head coach Jim Harbaugh. I also got my first glimpse of how tightly on message most of the team is with media. It’s reminiscent of what Bill James wrote in his 2001 historical abstract about the Los Angeles Dodgers’ media arrangements in the 1980s. James noted:

The Dodgers in those days had a fine-tuned public relations operation. Bringing almost all of their players up through the system, they trained them early how to deal with reporters. I remember a reporter who covered the Dodgers telling me that on the one hand it was wonderful, because the players were always available and almost never rude, and everybody in the front office would return your phone calls promptly, but on the other hand it was frustrating because they would never say anything. They were all trained in spin control– accentuating the positive, don’t try to explain what’s gone wrong, you’ll just make it worse, etc.

There’s been a lot of talk with the recent Hall of Fame vote about baseball writers completely flubbing reporting about steroids in the 1990s. I can sympathize with the writers. If any 49er was using PEDs this season, I’d have had no idea. Player access is tightly controlled. Reporters see what the team wants them to see when the team allows them to see it. We get 45 minutes or an hour a few days a week of locker room access, with the majority of players making themselves scarce at this time. There are also press conferences with Harbaugh and a handful of star players rotating in. Team PR reps are always nearby, often dictating how long things will go. There’s a tacit understanding, at least I felt one, that the team controls credentialing for reporters and can make things difficult at any time. The organization has the upper hand, which is probably reasonable for protecting its business interests. It’s just occasionally frustrating from a journalistic standpoint.

Don’t get me wrong, though– this experience was beyond awesome. I got to interview players like Alex Smith (who’s a consummate professional) and Frank Gore (who’s a better running back than interviewee) and meet a bunch of veteran writers that I respect, including Scott Ostler and Art Spander. After Harbaugh benched Smith for Colin Kaepernick, I did a phone interview with NFL legend Y.A. Tittle who went through a quarterback controversy with the 49ers a half century before. Best of all, I got paid for all of this. I still can’t believe the last part is true, or that I get checks from the San Francisco Chronicle, but I hope paid opportunities for writers continue to exist in abundance. We do better quality work the more it’s subsidized.

I also had credentials to cover four games, including the Niners-Patriots’ 41-34 slugfest on December 16. I snapped the picture on the left during the fourth quarter as I waited for post-game locker room access. I had to pay my own way as a freelancer to get out to New England and I didn’t leave Gillette Stadium until 3:30 that night, but I’d do it again. I’m just bummed I can’t afford to trek to New Orleans for the Super Bowl. I’m hopeful there will be other opportunities for me like this.

Now, with the season winding down, I’m just trying to enjoy this experience as long as I can. I was stoked the Niners made the Super Bowl in part because it means more issues of the magazine, more chances to write. I’m heading down to team headquarters in Santa Clara in a bit and am hopeful I’ll be down at least one or two more times before the season ends. There’s been a lot more media attention as of late. I was even on NFL Network, live the last time I went (look for me at the 0:45 mark of this video.) There hasn’t been definitive word yet on the magazine’s future beyond this season, though I’m hopeful some semblance of it will endure. It’s a good magazine and I’m honored to have been a part of it.

There’s one other thing worth noting: For much of my time writing for this magazine, I also attempted to work my full-time day job, writing ad copy and assisting in other marketing activities for a Bay Area industrial supplier. I won’t go on about it except to say much of my work was mediocre, the job ended and I learned something valuable: I don’t want to waste my time doing things I’m not passionate about. The job made me better money than I’ve earned in a few years, but once again, I learned that money isn’t everything in life. I’m back to working a couple of days a week as a delivery driver and otherwise focusing on freelance opportunities. The next time an opportunity like this comes along, I want to be ready.