Baseball: Past and Present

I’m pleased to present another first guest post, this time from Brendan Bingham, a regular reader and fellow member of the Society for American Baseball Research. Brendan recently offered to write something here, and I had no idea his approach would be so analytical, research-driven, or thorough. Enjoy.

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Trades in baseball are made looking forward but judged looking backward.  The MLB Network recently broadcast a program listing the 40 most memorable trades in major league history. Brock-for-Broglio, Robinson-for-Pappas, and the multi-player deal that sent Joe Morgan to Cincinnati were among the famous trades profiled. Absent from the top-40 list was a transaction that has always fascinated me, the February 1972 trade between the Cardinals and Phillies that sent Steve Carlton to Philadelphia in exchange for Rick Wise. That deal featured two solid starting pitchers at a time when both were involved in contract negotiations. The trade greatly affected the fortunes of both men and both teams.

Career stats through 1971
Player	Age	W	L	ERA			WAR
Steve Carlton	28	77	62	3.10			22.6
Rick Wise	27	75	76	3.57			13.6

Carlton had better career numbers at the time. As a result, perhaps the deal looked a bit one-sided, although not nearly as one-sided as it turned out to be. Carlton, having posted one 20-win campaign in his five full seasons with St. Louis, was a very good pitcher, but did not have the look of someone on the fast track to Cooperstown. Everything changed when he got to Philly, where he thrived, earned the nickname Lefty, and anchored the pitching staff of the team that became frequent NL East winners in the late 70s and early 80s and World Series champions in 1980.

Evaluating this trade from Philadelphia’s point of view is simple. Carlton accumulated 63.5 WAR with Philadelphia from 1972 to 1986 before a late-career shuffle among four teams for which he mostly underperformed. Meanwhile, Wise accumulated 21.5 WAR after being traded for Carlton. Not bad career numbers when coupled with Wise’s pre-1972 WAR, but as far as the trade goes, it’s big advantage to Philly at +42 WAR. Viewing the trade from the Cardinals’ side of the fence, the picture is more complicated. The numbers are not merely reversed. No, they’re much worse than that; the post-trade WAR discrepancy between Carlton and Wise greatly underestimates just how badly things turned out for St. Louis.

The Cards saw a limited benefit from Wise (8.4 WAR), as he spent only two seasons in St. Louis before being packaged with Bernie Carbo in a trade with the Boston Red Sox for Ken Tatum and Reggie Smith. Tatum did not play for St. Louis before being traded early in the ’74 season, and Smith played only three years in St. Louis, contributing 8.1 WAR to the team, before being traded to the LA Dodgers for Joe Ferguson and two other players. Much like Wise, both Carbo and Smith still had some productive years ahead of them when they left St. Louis.

In the mid-70s, the Cardinals forged a total of nine transactions involving Wise, Smith, and the players acquired for them (15 players in all, collectively the “progeny” of the Carlton trade). In the end, however, Wise and Smith were the only acquisitions from whom St. Louis derived any measurable benefit. All others either never played for the Cardinals or played only briefly and contributed only fractional (and mostly negative) WAR values.

The Cardinals’ cost-benefit summary is shown in the table below. Please note that the positive post-St. Louis WAR of Carbo and Mike Vail are included in the calculation as costs, because these players were St. Louis property traded away in multi-player deals, bundled with Carlton progeny. However, this calculation still provides a conservative estimate of the cost of the trade to St. Louis, because the post-Cardinal WAR values of Wise, Smith and the other Carlton progeny do not figure in the analysis, since these players were traded for players of equal value (at least in the eyes of the Cardinal front office) whose St. Louis WAR values do figure in the analysis, grouped under “Others.”

Carlton-Wise WAR Benefit (Cost) to St. Louis
Player Acquired	Years with STL	WAR with STL
Rick Wise	1972-1973	8.4
Reggie Smith	1974-1976	8.1
13 Others		(0.7)
Player Dealt	Years post-STL	WAR post-STL
Steve Carlton	1972-1988	(61.8)
Bernie Carbo	1974-1980	(8.0)
Mike Vail	1975-1984	(2.0)
Net		(56.0)

For those who prefer a more qualitative and less sabermetric recap, the Cardinals’ situation can be summed up like this: future Hall of Famer Carlton was traded for a significantly lesser player in Wise. Wise was traded for Smith, which might have been okay if it had been a 1-for-1 deal, but it wasn’t; St. Louis gave up a valuable player in Carbo. Smith was then given away in exchange for players that on balance were no better than the ones that could have been called up from the minor leagues.

The WAR stats suggest that the Cardinals missed out on 56 team wins as a result of having traded Carlton. Squandering not only Carlton’s future value, but also that of Wise, Carbo, Smith, and Vail provides a negative, if narrow, view of the Cardinal organization’s ability to evaluate talent during the 1970s. I would hope that there must have been other deals that turned out better. However, it is perhaps no coincidence that the late 70s were an uncharacteristically low period for the Cardinals, an organization that typically experiences more success than failure.

As the table below indicates, though, missing out on Carlton’s contributions did not cost the Cardinals any championships during the late 70s, since they finished far enough off the pace each year from ’75 through ‘80 that even Lefty’s pitching talents would not have been enough to land them in the NLCS.

Year	Carlton-Wise WAR Benefit (Cost) to STL		STL finish in NL East
1972	(6.7)		21.5 gb
1973	0.2		1.5 gb
1974	(0.6)		1.5 gb
1975	(4.4)		10.5 gb
1976	(2.7)		29 gb
1977	(8.4)		18 gb
1978	(3.5)		21 gb
1979	(3.8)		12 gb
1980	(10.3)		17 gb
1981	(5.0)		2 gb*
1982	(5.5)		Won by 3
1983	(6.0)		11 gb
1984	(1.9)		12.5 gb
1985	(1.2)		Won by 3
1986	2.1		28.5 gb
1987	0.7		Won by 3
1988	1.0		25 gb
Total	(56.0)
* Split season

The 1980s tell a different story. The Cardinals (with one WS championship and two other NL pennants) rebounded to become one of the two dominant MLB teams of that decade (along with the Dodgers and their 1981 and 1988 World Series championships). If St. Louis had not made the Carlton-Wise deal, they might have seen even greater success during the 80s. In both ’85 and ’87, the Red Birds lost seven-game World Series. At that late point in his career it is questionable whether Carlton could have improved the Cardinals’ chances, but perhaps even a few well-timed late-inning outs from an aging Lefty might have tipped the balance in one or both of those series.

Somewhat less speculative, however, is the value that Carlton could have brought to the 1981 Cardinals. In that strike-altered season, the Cards failed to make the playoffs despite their having the best combined record in the NL East. St. Louis finished a game and a half back in the first part of that quirky split season and a half game back in the post-strike session. Carlton’s 5.4 WAR in 1981 would have served the Cardinals very well indeed. Looking backward, had St. Louis (with Steve Carlton on board) made the playoffs in 1981, they might have had the opportunity to knock off the Dodgers, something that would only have cemented their later claim on team of the decade.

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This was a guest post written by Brendan Bingham. Email Brendan at Brendan@calibertherapeutics.com

What he did: My SABR chapter has organized a letter-writing campaign to get O’Doul into the Hall of Fame, which makes sense seeing as we’re the Lefty O’Doul Chapter. We know there’s little chance of getting O’Doul inducted as a player, since he played just 970 games (though he got some support in my recent project to find the 50 best players not in the Hall of Fame.) We want to get O’Doul honored as an ambassador to baseball, for his work promoting the game in Japan.

I’m reminded of this since there’s another O’Doul currently on the Hall of Fame ballot, Edgar Martinez. I see many parallels. Both were ineffective early on, O’Doul as a pitcher, Martinez as a third baseman. Each found success around 30 as a hitter. Each made his mark in top hitters parks, O’Doul in the Baker Bowl, Martinez in the Kingdome. Each thrived in a time when hitters ruled baseball.

I think Martinez will eventually make Cooperstown. Though he debuted at 36.2 percent of the vote last year, his numbers seem too good to ultimately ignore, from his .300/.400/.500 splits to his .933 career OPS to his 66.9 WAR. More than that, Martinez redefined the value of a designated hitter, was one of the best bats in baseball at his peak, and seems to have played enough, at 2,055 games, to merit induction. Barring any steroid revelations, he seems like a mid-late ballot selection.

So I got to wondering: What if Lefty O’Doul had a spot in the same Mariners lineup as Martinez?

Era he might have thrived in: We’re taking O’Doul back to the Mariners of the early ’90s, before pitcher-friendly Safeco Field, before Ken Griffey Jr, Alex Rodriguez, and Randy Johnson blew town. Even if Martinez were to DH, O’Doul could play passable defense and be the left fielder Seattle never really had. He also might hit .400 with this bunch, and, with the right set of circumstances, earn his Hall of Fame plaque.

Why: O’Doul had a couple of things working against him early on. First, he came up in 1919 as a pitcher in the days before baseball had a farm system, and he debuted with a contender, the New York Yankees. In the current game, O’Doul’s strengths would likely be identified and honed long before his first day in the big leagues. If he were a top prospect, a club like the Yankees would also probably ship him to a team like the Mariners for a veteran, as New York did with Jay Buhner for Ken Phelps in 1988.

O’Doul needed a chance to play as a young, failed pitcher, and he got it in the Pacific Coast League, where he hit a combined .369 from 1924 through 1927. He re-emerged in the majors in 1928, hitting .319 with the Giants before becoming a star the following year with the Phillies. O’Doul hit .398 in 1929, and converting that season to the 1996 Mariners, O’Doul would hit .390 with 258 hits, 33 home runs, and 122 runs batted in. I’m proposing this wouldn’t be his first year in Seattle either, that like Griffey and Buhner, O’Doul would start early in the outfield.

The defense wouldn’t be pretty, though looking at O’Doul’s career defensive WAR, I was surprised to see it was only -1.1. Buhner racked up -7.7 defensive WAR playing mostly right field, and Martinez finished with a career defensive WAR of 0.3, largely because he played only 34 games in the field his final ten seasons. O’Doul wouldn’t win any Gold Gloves, but I doubt he’d be costing the Mariners many victories in the field. He’d win at least a few with his bat, since he had 21.1 WAR from 1929 to 1932.

O’Doul was back in the PCL by 1935 at 38 so he could manage his hometown San Francisco Seals. With the Seals defunct and the Giants not in a hitters park or in a league where O’Doul could DH at the end, I don’t know if he leaves Seattle. That’s how Martinez closed things out, and it worked just fine.

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, Bad News Rockies, Barry Bonds, Bob Caruthers, Bob Feller, Dom DiMaggio, Frank Howard, Fritz Maisel, George Case, Harmon Killebrew, Home Run Baker, Jack Clark, Jackie Robinson, Jimmy Wynn, Joe DiMaggio, Johnny Frederick, Josh Hamilton, Ken Griffey Jr., Nate Colbert, Pete Rose, Rickey Henderson, Roberto Clemente, Sam Thompson, Sandy Koufax, Shoeless Joe Jackson, Stan Musial, The Meusel Brothers, Ty Cobb, Willie Mays

Several years ago at Christmas time, I’ve traveled to Australia. Since I loved their beaches, bohemian attitudes, friendly manner and love of sports, I developed an immediate kinship with Australians.
But cricket, Australia’s national sport, posed major challenges for me even though I made what I considered a serious effort to unravel its mysteries. Since the continent is gripped in cricket mania and the pubs jammed with rabid fans, I was disappointed that I couldn’t join in the fun more enthusiastically. In the end, I concluded that Americans are genetically incapable of understanding cricket.

But I took exception to my traveling partner’s comment: “Cricket is just like baseball—only more boring.”

Luckily for both of us, I could prove her wrong. I took her to see the Sydney Blues play the Perth Heat.
During Christmas in Australia, baseball is in full swing, so to speak. For the decade between 1989 and 1999, the Australian Baseball League played a relatively short season (about 60 games) but with a format similar to Major League Baseball. Regular season winners advanced to the playoffs with an eventual champion crowned.
The ABL used the designated hitter and aluminum bats for non-MLB contracted players whose participation in the league was strictly limited. But the ABL had an innovation that might help add excitement to MLB games as well as move them along faster. Under its rules, once a catcher reached base, a pinch runner could be substituted without having to take the field during the following inning. Having watched Benjie Molina glue up the base paths for years, I’m all for it.

Sadly, the ABL was short lived. Baseball just couldn’t compete with cricket for the fans’ dollar. But after twelve years of wrangling since the ABL folded in 1999, Australians, in partnership with the MLB, launched a new league in November. With baseball more global and with more extensive television and media coverage than existed the last time around, hopes are high. On the other hand, the ABL will have to compete not only with cricket but also soccer and the newly formed iiNet National Basketball League.

A final, non-baseball thought about Christmas in Australia. No matter what you’ve heard about the joys of a white Christmas or how odd it is to be in a warm weather climate during the Yule season, don’t believe a word of it. Relaxing on Bondi Beach on December 25th was fine with me. And the next morning I could read the box scores just summers back home.

I’ve been as guilty as the next guy these past few weeks whining and griping about the money being shelled out for free agents, the leadership of commissioner Bud Selig, the haves getting richer and the have nots getting poorer, and a bunch of not so happy other baseball stuff. M Nor am I normally a nostalgic person but something about the cold weather, the snow, living in a hockey mad country and getting older has given me pause for thought recently. Despite my often quick to criticize attitude, I dearly love the game of baseball.

It began when I was six years old when the only game of the week was every third Saturday and was always the Yankees and always in French. A friend of mine was moving to Germany and he had an extensive collection of baseball cards which he, for reasons best known to him, decided that he would give to me. Those images leapt off the tiny pieces of cardboard, the statistics a foreign language to me. I would remove my baseball cards from their boxes and gaze longingly at the pictures of my heroes and imagine their exploits as only a child could. Baseball magazines were few and far between then, especially during the long offseason, and the local paper, such as it was, were want to cover baseball during the season, let alone the cold winter months.

Baseball was something that seemed to be mine and mine alone and my little insignificant transistor radio was my lifeline to the sounds if not the sights of major league baseball. The World Series was in October then and during the day, making my school days especially impossible to focus as I knew I was missing the games and could only imagine from newspaper accounts what they really looked, felt, sounded and smelled like. I had no idea if what I imagined was anything like the real thing but that was all I had to sustain me. I felt like the kid who loved jazz and didn’t like the rock and roll that all of his friends listened to each night-baseball was my secret almost forbidden pleasure.

Then the most wonderful thing possible happened in 1969, the Montreal Expos came into existence. Montreal was only a two hour drive and my father, God bless his soul, acquiesced a few times a year to my constant pleadings and while he wasn’t a fan and didn’t enjoy the game, would give me bus fare, some money for a bleacher seat, hot dogs and a drink, and send me on my way. My first major league game I was able to see only the centre fielder, (Adolpho Phillips), and the Cubs defeated us 10-9. I have that old tattered scorecard somewhere I think but every play is still in my mind and my first major league hot dog tasted better than anything I have eaten before or since. I wasn’t in heaven; I was in a place well beyond and above.

Each subsequent game saw my arrival at least four hours before the game began, (often the gates weren’t open yet but I always found a sympathetic security guard who would let me in as long as I was quiet. Sometimes I was able to see the players arrive on the team but but I was too much in awe to even think of asking for an autograph. There was so and so in street clothes-it never occurred to me that baseball players wore anything but their uniforms or that they ate or drank like the rest of us mere mortals. They didn’t walk on water it seemed, but put one foot in front of the other as we did.

Many years later I had the opportunity to cover the Triple A Ottawa Lynx for a website in Baltimore and then a website in Philadelphia. After each game it was my “job” to conduct clubhouse interviews and ask pertinent baseball questions to professional baseball players. I would return home after each game looking once again as the game before, “Like a six year old who had been given free reign of the local candy store”. My wife would shake her head but I knew she understood.

The Ottawa Lynx and Montreal Expos are no more and I can manage only a once or twice yearly visit to Syracuse or Pittsburgh. Those visits are more than special to me. Investors and card companies have taken the joy out of collecting of baseball cards but I still have a few boxes in the closet, digging them out on a cold winter’s day to sort them and look at them once again. MLB tv.com has come to my rescue for the past three season, allowing me to watch the game(s) of my choice from March 1st until the end of the World Series.

My little transistor radio has long disappeared and I still seldom meet someone to just sit and talk baseball. I think maybe that’s what writing about the love of my life is really all about, a subconscious connection to my baseball past and a chance to keep living that impossible dream.

Growing up during the 1950s in pre-Dodgers Los Angeles and rooting for the old Pacific Coast League Hollywood Stars, my baseball heroes were different from kids in New York, Chicago or St. Louis.
They pulled for the great Gotham center fielders, Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays and Duke Snider, the Cubs’ Ernie Banks or the Cards’
incomparable Stan Musial.

My favorites didn’t leave quite the same lasting impression on baseball historians. Still, at my early age, the Stars’ were good enough for me.

One favorite had an interesting if not spectacular major league career. Johnny Lindell, the Pacific Coast League’s Most Valuable Player in 1952, broke in with the Yankees in 1941 as a 24-year-old, knuckleball specialist. Before his career ended 13 years later, Lindell shifted to the outfield and then back to the mound. In addition to the Yankees, Lindell also played for the Cardinals, the Pirates and the Phillies.

Although Lindell’s pitching career started out promisingly in Newark where in 1941 he posted a 23-4 record for the Bears, Yankee manager Joe McCarthy wasn’t convinced that a knuckleballer could be effective in the bigs.

By 1943, McCarthy switched Lindell to the outfield where he put together back-to-back seasons leading the league in triples and, over the next six years hit .275 or better four times. In 1944, Lindell’s best season, he hit .300 with 18 home runs and 103 RBIs. During the 1947 World Series
against the Brooklyn Dodgers, Lindell was nothing less than spectacular. Starting in six of the seven games in left field, Lindell lead all series regulars by hitting .500

Then, abruptly, Lindell’s bat went cold. By 1950 the Yankees, understandably unimpressed with Lindell’s .190 average shipped him to the Cardinals who promptly sold him to the Stars. Once in Hollywood, Lindell played sparingly in right field and hit .247.

Then Fred Haney, the Stars’ manager, to give Lindell another go on the mound. In two late season
appearances, Haney saw enough to give Lindell’s conversion back to the hill a full chance during the 1951 spring training.

The experiment’s results exceeded Haney’s wildest expectations. Lindell, relying almost exclusively on his knuckleball, posted a 12-9 record and a 3.03 ERA. Haney also used Lindell as a substitute outfielder, first baseman and pinch hitter. The Stars voted Lindell, who hit an impressive .292 and slugged nine home runs, the team’s Most Valuable Player.

During his league MVP year in 1952, the Stars’ won the PCL title by five games over the second place Oakland Oaks. Lindell went 24-9 with a 2.92 ERA and led the league in strike outs with 190.

Although his batting average slipped to .203, Lindell remained such a threat at the plate that Haney occasionally inserted him in the clean up spot in the order even when he was pitching.

Lindell credits his catcher, Mike Sandlock, for his success. Even though official scorers charged Sandlock with 20 passed balls, Lindell was convinced that no one could have done better with his dancing knucklers.
And Sandlock, who averaged an assist a game had an outstanding arm. His .286 average earned him a promotion to the parent Pittsburgh Pirates in 1953 even though he was 38.

Lindell was also called up; Haney resigned to take the Pirates’ helm. Most observers correctly thought that the Stars were a better team than the abysmal 1953 Pirates.

Moving to Pittsburgh was an unhappy experience for all three. Lindell went 5-16 (4.71), although the company he kept did him no favors. Traded to the Phillies in midseason, Lindell went 1-1 before
hanging up his cleats for good. Sandlock hit .231 and was also out of baseball the following year.

Haney stuck it out with the Pirates until 1955. During his three seasons at the Pirates’ helm, the Buccos had a winning percentage of .353 and finished deep in last place each year.

Then, in what must have seemed to him like a miracle from heaven, Milwaukee (Henry Aaron, Eddie Matthews, Warren Spahn, Joe Adcock etc) tapped Haney to pilot the Braves. In Haney’s four seasons, the Braves finished second twice (1956 and
1959), won the National League pennant (1958) and the World Series (1957)

Lindell promptly returned to Southern California’s Newport Beach paradise where he played golf and fished until, at age 68, he died from lung cancer.

[Editor’s note: As a different picture may indicate, we’re trying something new around here. Starting today, regular contributors will have their own pictures. Today’s post is by Gerry Garte, who has been contributing articles every other Friday for the past couple of months.]

The following could be a story from the future.

Major League Baseball approved a policy this week that would require a division winner to finish at least one game over .500 in the regular season to advance to the division playoffs.

Should a division winner hold an 81-81 record or worse, that team would win the division, but would not be eligible to play in the postseason. To fill this vacancy, the league’s next best record would advance to the playoffs with a chance at the pennant.

Motivation for this rule quickly developed toward the end of this past season. Arizona had won in the NL West Division with a losing record of 80-82, while Houston, second in the NL Central Division, ended the season 90-72. Although the Astros were 10 games better than the Diamondbacks, their season was over. The D-Backs eventually lost in division play.

No team in Major League Baseball had ever won its division at .500 (81-81) or lower in a full, 162-game season, going back to when division play was established in 1969.

From 1969-93, each league was split into two divisions. The worst record by a division winner in a full season belonged to the 1973 Mets, who finished 82-79 (.509), not needing to make-up the final game.

After the leagues split into three divisions in 1994, the closest any division winner had previously come to a .500 record was the 2005 San Diego Padres, who finished 82-80 (.506).  The ’05 Padres’ season was my inspiration for this scenario.

As the past season ended, a mild uproar grew within the baseball community that an injustice had been done to the Astros. The D-backs understood. Many fervent fans and retired players supported a policy change.  It was well-covered by the media.  Union concerns in the matter were few and minor.

Many baseball people, including Hall of Famers, favored a winning record to a weak division winner. Their message was clear: only a winning record deserves a spot in the postseason.

Major League Baseball and its president, George Bailey, got the message.  The MLB rules committee of long-time baseball people offered their conclusion, as did and a separate executive panel. Eventually, it was determined that success would by measured only above the .500 standard. Mr. Bailey concurred, saying no one wanted a repeat of last season. The new policy is effective Jan 1.

Although a division winner with a .500 record or worse may not come along again for another 50 years, in the end, it appears that baseball set aside division history to embrace a higher standard.

We can dream.