Wins

            So King Felix of Puget Sound has now actually won the Cy Young Award, which means that it is time to revise my Cy Young formula; the voters are no longer cowering in the corner in fear of the Won-Lost record and the wrath of Murray Chass.   Chass writes that "the development, I believe, is directly related to the growing influence of the new-fangled statistics," which isn’t exactly right but is as close as an old-fangled writer is likely to get.   There is no "new statistic" that is very relevant to this debate; rather, there is a re-evaluation of the old statistics, provoked by research.   Sportswriters of 50 years ago truly believed that a pitcher’s won-lost record was the best indicator of his value, which was a very reasonable thing to believe until research demonstrated that it was not true.  One doesn’t reasonably anticipate that people in mid-life will re-order their thinking to accommodate what younger people have figured out.

            There were two false assumptions here:  one, that run support would generally even out over the course of a season, and two, that good pitchers had an ability to pitch to the score, and thus an ability to WIN that was distinguishable from their ability to prevent runs from scoring.  Fifty years ago, young baseball fans were taught that these things were true.   We now have actual data about run support, which makes it no longer germane whether run support generally evens out or doesn’t; the facts about the specific case are more compelling than generalizations about the normal case, whether good generalizations or bad.    In the specific case, Felix Hernandez made 34 starts, in which games his team scored 104 runs.  CC Sabathia made 34 starts, in which his team scored 193 runs.   To hold Hernandez personally responsible for this 89-run differential seems a bit like holding the beat cop responsible because the bank was robbed on his watch.

            Whether pitchers have an ability to pitch to the score—that is, an ability to win games 2-1 and 7-6—remains a debatable point at the margins.   A year ago, when Zack Greinke won the Cy Young Apple, I argued that Felix Hernandez may actually have deserved it because he had done a better job of pitching to the score.   I wouldn’t (and didn’t) argue that this was an ability, merely that it was something that had happened, and from which his team had derived benefit.   We know now that if pitchers have an ability to pitch to the score, that the trait is transient and unreliable, that it is more of a butterfly than a mule.

            We used to treat the pitcher’s won-lost record as his number one statistic, his ERA as number two.   That has changed not because of new-fangled anything, but because of research.  We know better now.

            I gather that my name has been bruited about a good deal in this debate, and here are a couple of questions from the "Hey, Bill" file:

With Felix Hernandez winning the Cy Young Award, there will be some media coverage portraying you as a "victor" in the war of old school vs. new school.  I know you have a sensible policy of ignoring such hype, but I also believe that if you had remained a night watchman, Felix wouldn't have won.  Hope you can take a moment to appreciate that your work really has impacted baseball history.  –Jeff

Bill, Would you consider Felix Hernandez winning the Cy Young award as a sign that sabermetrics finally reached the "mainstream" ?  --Anonymous

And so, after all these years, I am still a dividing line between the old ways and the new? Well, if there is to be a war between reason and tradition, between research and habit, I am happy to be counted on the side of reason, whether as an officer or a foot soldier.   But the day will never come when it will be a good idea to personalize knowledge, or to claim the victories of others as my own.

            I was very afraid that, at the end of this, I was going to have to argue that Sabathia should have won after all.  CC Sabathia is a pretty good pitcher, and I see it as a close race between the two of them.    What probably didn’t get enough attention here was one of them new-fangled nummers, Park Effects.  Felix Hernandez had a 2.27 ERA, Sabathia an ERA of 3.18, but that difference is mostly due to the parks they pitched in, and also, Hernandez allowed nine more un-earned runs than did Sabathia.   If we hold the pitcher 50% responsible for the un-earned runs, that narrows the margin a little more.

            Not quite enough; I think Felix really was better, and I think he deserved to win.   OK, you got me; here are my new-fangled nummers.   Pitching half his innings in Seattle, with a Park Factor of 0.81, an average pitcher could expect to allow 4.07 runs per nine innings, and a replacement level pitcher could be expected to allow 5.29 runs per nine innings.   Holding Hernandez 50% responsible for the un-earned runs, Hernandez was 75 runs better than a replacement-level pitcher.

            An average pitcher in New Yankee, on the other hand, could have been expected to allow 4.82 runs per nine innings, and a replacement level pitcher 6.26, assuming the replacement level pitcher is 30% below average.   Park Factor of 1.18.   Sabathia was 77 runs better than a replacement level pitcher.

            On the level of runs saved, then, Sabathia was +77, Hernandez +75.    However, since Sabathia pitched in a higher-run environment, each run had less impact in terms of wins.   Sabathia was probably about 8 games better than a replacement-level pitcher (8.03), whereas Hernandez was more than 9 games better (9.24).   By my math.

            So Felix deserves the award that he will receive next spring, perhaps on opening day, and what should he say that day?   Should he say, "I would like to thank my manager, my coaches, my teammates and of course my parents, but also I would like to take a moment to thank Pete Palmer for this award, and Tom Tango, and Rob Neyer, and Keith Woolner and Eddie Epstein and Craig Wright, and all the others who have worked so hard for so long to demonstrate that there are good pitchers on teams that struggle to score runs."

            No, that’s not it.   Here’s what he should say, "I appreciate this award, and I accept it on behalf of my family, my teammates and my organization, but I accept it as well on behalf of Mike Norris in 1980, of Dave Stieb in 1983, and Jim Bunning in 1960, and Bert Blyleven in 1973, and all the other pitchers over the years who were deprived of the recognition that was due to them because sportswriters confused what was done by the individual with what was done by the team.  Your time has come; we no longer live in the darkness of the past, and the shadows now are lifting from your memories."

Twins

            The Kansas Jayhawks this year have identical twin basketball players, Marcus and Markieff Morris, who are quite good.   Marcus is supposed to be better; coach Bill Self, who sent three players to the NBA just last year and has put probably a dozen or more there over the years, says that Marcus may be the best all-around player he has ever had—meaning (I think) the best player at doing everything.    The Morrises are listed at 6-9 but look more like 6-7½, but they’re very strong, good athletes, extraordinary energy, and they’re basketball players; they pass well and shoot fairly well and see the court well and rebound like tigers and defend like samurai.   They’re smart players who execute assignments and improvise extremely well within the game.

            Having watched them for three years I can’t tell them apart; they’re not only identical but are covered with identical tattoos, and they play the same although—to my eyes; just my judgment—people like to pretend that they have different playing styles, but I don’t see it.   The only thing I can see that makes Marcus better than Markieff is that Markieff makes silly fouls, and I don’t even see those; it’s just that when the referee calls some silly foul you didn’t see and you check the number, it’s usually Markieff’s number.   This limits his playing time, but while he is on the court he scores just as many points and gets just as many rebounds and assists and steals as his brother the All-American does. 

            Anyway, my question here is not exactly about Twins, but about redundant talents.    It might seem that having two identical players would be less effective than having two outstanding talents who were different, but it seems to me that the opposite is often true.   In 1968 the Kansas University football team, not normally a powerhouse, went to the Orange Bowl, and came within a couple of plays of possibly being the national champions.   Much of what drove the team was that they had two defensive linemen, Vernon Vanoy and John Zook, who both played for several years in the NFL; Zook was an outstanding NFL player, Vanoy had some injuries and wasn’t, but he was a dominant player in college.  Zook was a defensive end; Vanoy was a tackle in the NFL, but (right or wrong) I remember his playing the other end in college.  It might seem that if you have two players of that caliber you would rather they weren’t both defensive ends, but in fact it worked very well, because if you put one of them on one end of the line and the other on the other, there was no possible way to deal with them.  Ordinarily you would double-team a player of that caliber or set up your blocking to stop him from getting to the quarterback, but since there were two of them you couldn’t; if you double-teamed Zook Vanoy would get to the quarterback, and if you double-teamed Vanoy Zook would get there, and nobody had the talent to play them both straight up.

            Another one of those was Wichita State’s bookend forward.   In the early 1980s the Wichita State basketball team had two NBA power forwards, Antoine Carr and Cliff Levingston.   Carr played 17 years in the NBA, Levingston I think 12.  (There was also a third NBA power forward on that team, Xavier McDaniel, who was a couple of years behind them but on the same team; he also played 12 years in the NBA.)    One might think that having two NBA power forwards on a college basketball team would be one more than you really needed, but in fact it created an impossible problem for the other team.   When you run into a team that has one guy like that, you can adjust, help out on defense, concentrate on blocking him off the boards, etc.; when they have two of them, there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.   Having two of them is more than twice as effective as having one.

            Marcus and Markieff are sort of like that as well, not at the same level yet but. . .I was trying to think about the phenomenon.    The Giants in 1958/1959 came up with two very similar Hall of Fame talents, in Orlando Cepeda and Willie McCovey, one left-handed and one right, but both cleanup hitters and first basemen and both really good.   In that case it didn’t exactly work; because they could both play only at first base, the Giants had to try to steal at bats for McCovey by playing Cepeda in the outfield, which was kind of like casting Kate Hudson and Reese Witherspoon in the same movie, only there’s only one romantic lead so one of them has to play her mother.    Saying that it didn’t "exactly" work is too vague; it didn’t work at all.

            On the other hand. . .well, Schilling and the Big Unit.   It was devastating because you couldn’t concede both games and you couldn’t match your best pitcher up against both of them.

            I think the McCovey/Cepeda thing didn’t work because they were at the end of the defensive spectrum, thus in the area of no options.  The parallel situation in basketball, I think, would be having two 7-foot-2 inch centers.   If they were both really good there would be some value in it, because they could rotate and stay fresh, but you couldn’t effectively play them both at the same time because you’d slow down the offense and you’d have bad matchups on defense, 7-foot-2 inch guys trying to chase a 6-5 shooting guard around a pick.   I remember LSU had Shaquille and Stanley Roberts at the same time; I don’t remember that as being especially effective, although somebody will probably tell me that it was.   UCLA had a guy named Swen Nater backing up Bill Walton; he was probably one of the three or four best centers in college basketball at the time, but he never started a game, and didn’t even play that much, because. . . .well, it’s like having Carmen Diaz and Gwyneth Paltrow in the same movie; what exactly are you going to do with one of them?

            On the other hand, if you put two action stars in the same movie—Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson—that seems to work fine; if you put Clooney and Brad Pitt in the same movie somehow you can make that work.

            I don’t really have a point here, do I?   This is "question" article, rather than an "answer" article; why does it work so well to have redundant talents sometimes, and so poorly other times?   When you have two hard-throwing right-handed relief pitchers, sometimes that works great, and sometimes it is one more than you can use.    There must be some theory that unites these experiences, but I’m not sure what it is. 

Tipping

            How old are you?   If you are less than 30, I would argue that in your lifetime, the United States government will outlaw giving or receiving tips.

            At the time of World War II the standard tip for service was 5%.   Just after the war it shifted upward to 10%, and, in the mid-1960s, to 15%.   I remember Ann Landers advising her readers that "inflation hits everybody; the waitress’s costs have gone up, too."   There is an obvious logical short-circuit here; if inflation hits everybody, the waitress’s 10% automatically goes up, but anyway, it went to 15% by 1970, and, in the last few years, has moved to 20.           At the same time, the number of things that one is expected to tip for grows constantly.   I delivered pizzas for Pizza Hut in the mid-1970s; we never got tips and never expected them.    I remember a couple of people offered to tip me, but I turned them down because it didn’t seem right.   In the 1980s the people who drove car rental company service vans were forbidden from accepting tips; now they have tip jars.    Tip jars are turning up everywhere; bakeries have tip jars.   Mm, that was a good doughnut.   Drop your change here.

            Hotel room service has developed layers of redundant service fees—a room service fee, plus a gratuity, PLUS a line for you to write in your own tip.    Wait a minute. . .how does the "gratuity" differ from the tip?   I thought the gratuity was the tip.   A $7 breakfast costs $20, plus $15 in tips.   Forty years ago the only people you tipped were waiters and cab drivers and bell boys; now you tip your roofer and movers and lawn mowers and barbers and bar tenders.

            A few old tipping jobs have disappeared. . .elevator operators, and gas pump servicemen.   We pump our own gas, now, and push our own elevator buttons.  I should stress that I am not angry about this, or annoyed about it, or anything of the sort; this is not an angry or complaining article.   It is a rational observation article.   Tipping is growing taller and wider and heavier, and growing in comparison to almost anything else, for an obvious reason:  it cuts out the IRS.   It’s economically efficient because, as a practical matter, tips aren’t reported or are heroically under-reported to the IRS.   If the car rental company pays the van driver $40,000 a year the IRS is there with its hand out, wanting their cut; if the car rental company pays him $30,000 a year and he makes $10,000 in tips, he winds up with more money because he tells the IRS that he made $117.22 in tips.

            How much do I tip, in the course of a year?   I don’t know, but it has to be thousands of dollars.  Tipping is treated as a test of generosity, thus as a test of values.   Major league baseball players tip clubhouse attendants hundreds of dollars a week.  If you don’t tip well, you’re a nasty, wasty skunk who doesn’t care about the little guy.   My observation about this is not that it is right or that it is wrong, but that it is growing, that it has been growing for a long time, and that it will continue to grow until it forces the country to take action to stop it.   It isn’t a question of if  the standard tip will go to 25%, but when.   It isn’t a question of whether more and more people will begin to expect tips, but merely of who they will be.    The people who book appointments at dentist offices?   Dry cleaners?   Airline stewards and stewardesses?   Bag boys?   Oh, wait a minute; in some grocery stores, they already do.

            The growth of tipping, which is normally done in cash because the IRS can’t track all the cash, is at odds with the movement of the country toward a cash-less society.   I would argue that at some point the growth of the tipping industry has to stop; logically, I don’t see how this can just continue to grow, unchecked, for another 50 or 60 years.    The question, really, is whether the government will step in and put a stop to it, or something else will.    Arthur Bryant’s Bar-B-Q has a sign:  If anyone in this establishment asks you for or accepts a tip, please let us know and that person will be fired immediately.   It may be that the restaurants will get organized and put a stop to it, or the hotels, or the rental car companies.   It may be that one of them will get organized and take the lead, and the others will follow.   It may be that the movement toward a cash-less society will eventually enable the IRS to track all tips or almost all tips, thus removing the economic advantage of tipping as opposed to paying wages, thus draining the swamp.

            But I doubt it.   I think eventually society will have to step in, declare this to be an onerous and unlawful activity, and put a stop to it.   I predict that this will happen before 2050.