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Lost That Glovin' Feeling

Fielding is the hip thing in baseball in 2010 (I refuse to use the degenerate term "defense" or its even more evil spawn "run prevention"). Theo Epstein says so. A long article in last week's "Sports Illustrated said so, too. It was all about how the Seattle Mariners overcame the fact they can't hit a lick to defy the oddsmakers by not completely sucking in 2009 and are likely to win the AL West in 2010 because of their uncanny group fielding ability.

See, fielding is the new undervalued commodity in baseball, so hip general managers save money and win games by signing players who can sling the leather, rather than those stodgy 40 homer, 110 RBI sluggers. It was all very impressive, and loaded down with new stat acronyms. It wasn't until the middle of the article that the piece noted one other reason the Mariners might not give up too many runs this season -- the team's trade to get Cliff Lee, the starting pitcher who was the reason the Phillies repeated as National League champions last season. Lee is not undervalued. At least, he's pretty determined he won't be when it's time for new contract.

Actually, fielding is the OLDEST undervalued commodity in baseball. Or rather, it's been valued about the same in the sport's flesh market for well over a century. It's not that fielding isn't valuable or doesn't help teams win games. It is and it does. It's just not AS valuable as those pedestrian and expensive commodities, hitting and pitching.

Some like numbers to explain the game. I prefer baseball cliches. The phrase "good field, no hit," is not applied to budding stars. It is a pejorative meaning the player in question is, if he's lucky, a fringe benchwarmer in constant danger of a sudden bus ride to a Triple A affiliate.

The formula hasn't changed much over the years. Pitching is 50 percent of winning, hitting about 40 percent (actually, make that 38 percent hitting and 2 percent baserunning) and fielding about 10 percent. In a game where pennants are determined frequently determined by winning percentages well less than 3 percent (that's about a five-game spread in the 162-game standings), that's not an inconsiderable factor. Not as considerable as those other two, however.

Fielding is the most aesthetically pleasing part of any ballgame. A nifty play is a far more memorable fan experience than yet another home run into the Monster seats. But the home run almost always does more to determine the game's outcome than the spectacular grab of a liner or a throw dug out of the dirt. As is well known, many teams turn spectacular plays as their pitcher is being battered from a barrage of hard-hit balls, as much from self-defense as from the will to win.

The real reason fielding is trendy this season is that a number of teams (Red Sox, cough, cough) were unable to bolster their lineups as much as they might have wished in the offseason and fell back on fielding as Plan B. There are ALWAYS glove guys out there. It's a steady living because it is a desirable major league skill. Desirable and absolutely necessary however, are not the same concepts.

Look, the difference between the best and worst fielding teams in the game each season is about 3 balls in play out of every 1000. It's the difference between a club that makes 98 percent of the plays and one that makes 95. Oh, range and throwing arms and such can make that difference larger. But there's never been a defense that equals the value of adding one OPS over .900 to your lineup, or a 200 inning pitcher with an ERA under 3.

Willie Mays was perhaps the best center fielder that ever lived. The only one I saw I rate as his equal was Garry Maddox. Maddox is remembered as a solid player. Mays is an all-time immortal. He'd be an all-time immortal even if he'd been a butcher out there.

Here's a hypothetical. Shortstop is the second-most important position for a fielder in the game. It, along with catcher, is actually a job where a superior fielder who's a mediocre or worse hitter can have a long career, can make All-Star teams and earn widespread acclaim just for his glovework.

Suppose for an instant that tomorrow morning a shortstop becomes a free agent. His name is Derek Jeter. Jeter, according to his critics, is the worst fielding shortstop in the game. I believe adequate would be a better description, but no matter. The point is, Jeter's fielding is no great shakes. Doesn't matter. As a shortstop, Jeter is also a first ballot Hall of Fame batter.

I'd bet every team in baseball would be racing a moving van full of $100 bills to Jeter's residence before he went out to pick up his mail. And God help the traffic cops, crippled newsboys and distracted grannies crossing the street who got in the way of the van driven by the general manager of the Seattle Mariners.

posted by Michael Gee @ 5:22 PM