The 2005 AL Cy Young Award

True to the hint dropped at the end of my last post, I'm going to explore the 2005 AL Cy Young Award, but first let me be clear about my purpose.

While I believe that Johan Santana and Mariano Rivera were clearly the two best pitchers in the league that year, I'm not going to argue that one of them should have won the award. I recognize that each of them faced a significant challenge to winning the award, challenges that the BBWAA rarely works hard enough to overlook. In Santana's case, his team's general mediocrity suppressed his win total, and in Rivera's case, his role as a reliever kept him from throwing very many innings. I could go chapter and verse on why either man was a better pitcher in 2005 than anyone else in the league, but that's been done before by many, and I'm not in the mood to do it again.

Instead, I want to have a discussion of how the BBWAA evaluates candidates for the Cy Young in general, and I think I've identified the perfect candidates for framing this discussion.

Bartolo Colon was the winner of the American League Cy Young Award in 2005, receiving 17 of the 28 possible first-place votes. This award was based upon Colon's 21-8 record and 3.48 ERA for the AL West champion Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. His teammate, John Lackey, posted a record of 14-5 and a similar ERA of 3.44. He didn't receive a single Cy Young vote, but when his performance for the season is compared to Colon's, I think the similarities are noteworthy.

Both players started 33 games, and the Angels went 22-11 in both Colon's starts and Lackey's starts, so clearly each man gave his team an equal chance to win. Colon was a bit more durable and a bit more efficient with his pitches than Lackey was. He walked 28 fewer hitters and gave up fewer hits per inning, while hitting fewer batters and throwing considerably fewer wild pitches. All of these results generally tended to keep his pitch counts down and extend the time he could spend in each game. Consequently, Colon threw almost 14 more innings than Lackey did. Colon also threw three more quality starts than did Lackey, 21-18. All of this led to Colon getting the decision in 29 of his 33 starts, nearly 88%, compared to just 19 for Lackey, or 58%. Much of that is due to Colon's efficiency and durability, and he should absolutely get credit for that. Taking a look at the WARP3 marks (7.5 for Colon, 6.5 for Lackey) and Win Shares (19 for Colon, 17 for Lackey) for each shows us that he does. I will not try to argue that Colon wasn't slightly better than John Lackey in 2005, because clearly he was.

That said, there are quite a few factors in Lackey's favor that narrow the gap between them significantly:

• Lackey faced tougher competition. Eighteen of his 33 starts came against teams with records of .500 or better. This compares to 15 for Colon, who racked up 11 of his 21 wins against sub-.500 teams, while Lackey posted 11 of his 14 wins against winning ballclubs.
• Lackey pitched more of his games on the road. While Colon got to start 18 of his games in Anaheim, Lackey had to start 19 games on the road.
• Lackey enjoyed considerably less run support than Colon did. On average, the Angels scored two-thirds of a run more in each of Colon's starts than in Lackey's. Seven different times the Angels scored double-digit runs for Colon, compared to just once for Lackey. This contributed to the fact that Lackey turned in six quality starts in which he got no decision, compared to just three for Colon.
• On average, the Angels allowed fewer total runs in Lackey's starts, committing fewer errors and allowing fewer unearned runs, a traditional hallmark of a more engaged defense. In other words, his teammates seemed more interested in playing behind him.
• Lackey allowed half as many home runs, just 13 to Colon's 26, while striking out batters at a much higher rate, 8.6 per nine innings to just 6.3 for Colon, indicating that on an inning-for-inning basis, Lackey demonstrated more dominance over his opponents than Colon did.
• The Angels' bullpen blew three saves after Lackey left the game, cutting his possible win total by three, while they didn't blow a single lead for Colon all season.

When all of these factors are combined, and the respective records of the two pitchers are neutralized (according to baseball-reference.com) to account for home-road discrepancies, run support, etc., we find that their marks aren't terribly different:

Colon: 14-10, 3.33 ERA, 224.3 innings, 158 strikeouts, 42 walks
Lackey: 14-9, 3.21 ERA, 210.3 innings, 200 strikeouts, 70 walks

In other words, Lackey's neutralized record is very close to the record he actual posted, while Colon's makes it clear that his final numbers were largely the result of fortunate circumstances beyond his control.

Now, even presuming that Colon should get an extra couple of wins due to durability issues, the question becomes this; Why did Bartolo Colon win the Cy Young Award in 2005 when a teammate with an extremely similar performance didn't receive a single vote? Was Colon so much better than Lackey that he deserved to be labeled the best pitcher in the league while Lackey received no consideration for that title at all? I don't think so.

I think the BBWAA saw that league-leading win total and stopped asking questions. Colon won more games than anyone and he did it for a division winner, so the question of whether or not his performance was really indicative of the best pitching in the league became an open and shut case for most voters. At the same time, Lackey's comparatively pedestrian win total, particularly in the absence of a league leading ERA or strikeout total, eliminated him from consideration for most, if not all, of the writers before they even filled out their ballots.

This is pretty typical for the BBWAA. Time and again, we've seen them focus on one or two key statistics - wins for starters and saves for relievers in the Cy Young voting, RBI for hitters in the MVP voting - and essentially halt their performance analysis at that point. I don't agree with it, but I've come to expect it.

Still, when you've got a situation like Colon and Lackey in 2005, you'd hope the voters would take a bit more time to examine just a couple of basics. If any one of them had bothered to look at them side-by-side, they would have seen two teammates with nearly identical ERAs who started the same number of games for the same team, and the team posted identical 22-11 records in their respective starts. On the field, where all of this is supposed to matter, John Lackey and Bartolo Colon provided essentially equal value to the Angels, with Colon providing a touch more due to his added durability. Wouldn't the voters, if they were really doing their jobs, takes pains to ensure that the voting results reflected this reality? If you really think Colon was the best pitcher in the league, shouldn't Lackey be somewhere down your ballot, probably just one slot below Colon?

Instead, we get the writers sending the tacit message that they really only consider one or two numbers when they cast their votes, whether those are the proper numbers to consider or not. Silly results ensue, leaving anyone who cares about this stuff either scratching their head or, even worse, expressing no surprise at all considering how frequently this kind of thing happens.

For me, I can't help but think that it's a pretty sad commentary on the voting process when it's no longer surprising that the results of the writers' ballots don't match the reality we witness on the field.

A Re-Focused Blog

Never let it be said that I can't take coaching.

One of the criticisms leveled at this site, and therefore at me, has been that many of the posts focus on some relatively esoteric aspects of the BBWAA's various voting failures. Aren't there more important things to write about, the criticism goes, than whether or not Phil Rogers casts a couple of biased votes at the bottom of an otherwise strong Hall of Fame ballot?

Well in retrospect, yes, there are. I have been trying to demonstrate in this site's first few months that the BBWAA's failures as so numerous that they run the full gamut of impact, from the obviously egregious (Alan Trammell losing the 1987 MVP award; Ron Santo's exclusion from the Hall of Fame) to the nuanced (Gerry Fraley's pitiful list of absent Hall of Famers). Their failures, in other words, aren’t limited to the occasional mishap, but are rather of a systemic nature, impacting an enormous percentage of baseball’s year- and career-end honors. I will continue my effort to make that issue clear, and can’t promise that I won’t still post about some comparatively obscure issue from time to time.

That said, I don’t want to dwell upon every single questionable BBWAA vote. Did Bruce Sutter get a Cy Young Award in 1979 when Phil Niekro probably had a better year? Yeah, I think so. But Sutter was awfully good that year, there was no slam dunk, Cy-worthy season by any other pitcher, and Niekro pitched for an atrocious team and lost twenty games, so you won’t find me tilting at that particular windmill.

Instead, I will make every effort in the future to focus on those voting results that clearly represent failures of the process. Pete Vuckovich’s 1982 Cy Young Award is a good example. I don’t think many people would have had much problem with that award going to Bill Caudill or Dave Stieb or Dan Quisenberry or Rick Sutcliffe or a few other pitchers who turned in solid performances that year. The problem arose because one subset of the BBWAA labeled Pete Vuckovich the best pitcher in the league, over a couple of dozen pitchers who were demonstrably better, while another subset decided that Vuckovich wasn’t even the most valuable pitcher on his team. That kind of result is the hallmark of a horribly broken process, and will continue to get my attention.

Moving forward, I will also make every effort to be clear that I believe there is room for differing opinions in the debate. I have never meant to imply that the views I express here are absolutes, and any BBWAA result that runs counter to them must therefore be in error. Reasonable, intelligent people often come to perfectly acceptable opposing conclusions. As long as the reasons for the difference are explained, particularly when it’s clear that genuine effort is put into the process, you won’t see me complaining. For instance, I will not criticize Jayson Stark or Joe Posnanski on this site, despite the fact that I don’t agree with some of their Hall of Fame ballot choices. Both men demonstrate obvious passion for the game, its history and the awards process, while also making it clear that they are open to both differing opinions and alternate methods of evaluating players. In short, they take their voting responsibilities seriously, and therefore I won’t haggle with the ultimate results of their efforts.

Now, whether or not “effort” was put in by the guys who decided Bartolo Colon was the best pitcher in the American League in 2005, that’s a different story…

Slings and Arrows

There's nothing quite like being called "horrible" and "pedantic" to brighten your day.

At some point earlier today, my last article about Phil Rogers was posted over at The Baseball Think Factory, where it was promptly skewered by that site's regular members. One poster, who bravely chooses not to reveal his name, age, occupation, education, or anything else about his personal background or qualifications other than his painfully lengthy attempt at a pithy screen name, was particularly harsh, calling the article;

"The saddest, most pity-inspiring "forest for the trees" sort of nitpicking."

Given the studious anonymity of the source, I have to admit that I wasn't terribly shattered. And, I must say, the decision to focus on the shortcomings of the messenger instead of the message itself doesn’t really seem to be in keeping with the spirit of any site that calls itself a "think factory".

That said, I'm grateful to whoever decided to post the link to my piece, regardless of the criticisms leveled, because it furthers my ultimate goal. See, I'm not in this for money. I have not made, and probably never will make, a single dime from any writing. As I've said before, I'm amply compensated in my career of choice, a career I have no desire to leave unless I finally manage to buy the right lottery ticket. I don't want to be famous, either, since I knowingly possess a face for radio and a personality ill-suited to spewing politically correct pabulum in public.

I'm also not trying to become a professional writer, and readily acknowledge that I don't write as well as most, and probably all, of the BBWAA members that I criticize. If anyone cares to read through all of my prior posts, you will note that I make no criticisms of anyone's writing or phraseology or whatever. I've confined myself to an assessment of their logic in matters related to evaluating baseball players.

And that's the point. Sling as many criticisms about my writing style, or my admittedly spotty attempts at statistical analysis, as you would like. That's all quite alright with me as long as it results in people actively beginning to discuss the BBWAA's qualifications for voting for post-season and career-end awards, in far more depth than is currently the case.

In exchange for that outcome, I'm perfectly content to serve as a target of convenience for a few 21-year olds and computer nerds who would rather criticize others than take the responsibility to publicly offer anything on the subject themselves.

The 1982 AL Cy Young Award

There haven’t been many good baseball movies. Think back through the history of the sport on film and you can probably count up the good baseball flicks on one hand an still have some fingers in reserve. There’s “The Natural”, “Pride of the Yankees”, and “Field of Dreams”, and after that everything is debatable.

“Bang the Drum Slowly”? Downer. Who could like any movie that ends with a funeral?

“Fear Strikes Out”? An effeminate Tony Perkins playing center field in Fenway? Surely you jest.

And don’t even go “Little Big League”, “Cobb”, or “Mr. 3000” on me. I’m telling you, don’t. It won’t be pretty.

I think the next closest thing you’ll find to consensus on a baseball movie is “Major League”. Funny. Good characters. Charlie Sheen when he was still on cocaine. Dennis Haysbert before he became president as a Cuban slugger who practices voodoo. Renee Russo before the third facelift. Lots to work with in this movie.

One of my personal favorites was the supposed “bad guy” who played for the Yankees, Clue Haywood, the Triple Crown-winning, tobacco-spitting, fat, ugly bastard played so well by real-life Milwaukee Brewers pitcher Pete Vuckovich. Few people realize that the movie, while about the fictionalized Cleveland Indians, was actually filmed in Milwaukee, which is how they got Bob Uecker to be the radio announcer and Vuckovich to play the bad guy.

Vuckovich had only two lines in the movie, but they were both good. Talking to the film’s star, Tom Berenger, when he walked up to the plate the first time, Vuckovich said, “Hey, are you still in the league?” He then followed that with the killer, “How’s your wife and my kids?” Classic.

I can’t help but wonder if Vuckovich would have even been considered for that part if the Baseball Writers Association of America hadn’t pulled one of its’ bigger boners by handing him the 1982 American League Cy Young Award when he didn’t deserve it. That one-time splash of fame in an otherwise forgettable career probably gave Vuckovich a film career that would have never happened if the BBWAA wasn’t wholly unqualified to vote on post-season awards.

The 1982 Cy Young voting is one of the bigger travesties you’ll ever see in sports. The Brewers, a lovable bunch of bashers who were collectively known as “Harvey’s Wallbangers” after their manager, Harvey Kuenn, had a murderer’s row lineup that sported a pair of former home run champs (Gorman Thomas and Ben Oglivie), a smooth, powerful first baseman (Cecil Cooper), and near Hall of Fame catcher (Ted Simmons) and two actual Hall of Famers (Paul Molitor and Robin Yount). The club had a definite beer league softball team vibe about it, right down to their nickname and mascot, and they bashed their way to 95 wins, the most runs in the league, an MVP award for Yount, and a seven-game World Series loss.

Apparently the BBWAA felt this collection colorful guys deserved a Cy Young winner as well, because they decided to bestow the award upon Vuckovich at the end of the season. Vuckovich was a true journeyman, having already pitched for the Cardinals and expansion Blue Jays and failing to distinguish himself in either location. He joined the Brewers in 1981, and while he was serviceable enough, there was nothing terribly distinguishing about him either. Minus the BBWAA’s intervention, Vuckovich would probably be best remembered as the only player to reach the big leagues from Clarion University of Pennsylvania.

But, by the grace of that booming offense, Vuckovich managed to post a record of 18-6 in 1982, with a solid, but rather pedestrian, ERA of 3.34 . That mark was 14% better than the league average, but certainly nothing remarkable. He didn’t lead the league in any important pitching categories, he barely struck out 100 batters in over 220 innings (an anemic rate of just 4.23 strikeouts per nine innings pitched) and allowed a mammoth number of base runners (1.502 WHIP). In a neutral context, where all ballpark factors and winning probabilities are leveled, Vuckovich projected to a record of just 13-11, with a 3.58 ERA. Nothing terribly special there.

At least , not unless you’re a voter for the Cy Young Award. They seem to look for one thing, and one thing only. Wins. Lots and lots of wins. Boy do the voters love a big win total on a starting pitcher, and in 1982, that really favored Clue Haywood…I mean, Pete Vuckovich. Vuck finished tied for second in the league in wins, 18 to be exact. That was one less than league-leader LaMarr Hoyt, but since Hoyt’s White Sox finished with just 87 wins, six games behind the Angels in the AL West, I guess the voters felt that his wins didn’t matter as much. (To make up for it, the voters gave Hoyt a Cy Young Award he didn’t deserve the next season.)

It also apparently didn’t matter that Vuckovich really wasn’t all that good in every category other than wins. He pitched just over 223 innings, not a terribly remarkable total that didn’t even crack the league’s top-10. He struck out 105 batters, a pretty anemic total for that many innings, and nowhere close to the top-30 in the league. (Let’s put it this way; Mariners closer Bill Caudill stuck out more hitters despite pitching 128 fewer innings. Ouch.) Vuckovich’s ERA was a solid 3.34, tied for 6th in the league, but that mark wasn’t terribly distinctive considering that Milwaukee’s County Stadium boasted a pitcher’s park factor of 93, meaning the park severely favored pitchers. In fact, it favored them so much that Vuckovich’s home-away splits were extreme (2.65 ERA at home; 3.95 away).

In essence, Vuckovich was a mildly above-average starting pitcher who happened to play for a team that scored more runs than any other in the league. In terms of stats like WARP3, where he’s granted a score based upon a neutralized environment, this essential mediocrity becomes obvious. Vuckovich scored 4.9 in WARP3 that year, a figure that was equaled or bettered by 33 different American League pitchers. He didn’t even have the best mark on the Brewers, where Rollie Fingers posted a mark of 5.9.

Here’s a quick comparison of Vuckovich’s neutralized numbers against Dennis Eckersley, one of those other pitchers:

Wins – Vuckovich, 13; Eckersley, 14
ERA – Vuckovich, 3.58; Eckersley, 3.39
Strikeouts – Vuckovich, 102; Eckersley, 129
WHIP – Vuckovich, 1.578; Eckersley, 1.140
Innings – Vuckovich, 223.1; Eckersley, 224.1

These guys were pretty much equals in 1982, with all of the slight edges going to Eckersley, who pitched for a pretty good Boston team that won 89 games. Do you know how many Cy Young votes Eckersley got that year? Zero. He wasn’t mentioned on a single ballot.

If that strikes you as quirky, just wait. It gets better. Since the BBWAA decided that Pete Vuckovich was clearly the best pitcher in the American League in 1982 (half of the first place Cy Young votes, almost three-times as many first place votes as any other pitcher, about 50% more total points that the second place finisher), it stands to reason that he would finish pretty well in the MVP voting, too. Right?

Interestingly, no, that’s not what it means at all. Vuckovich, supposedly the best pitcher in the league, finished 18th in the MVP voting with just 11 total points. Not only that, he wasn’t even the top pitcher on the ballot. That honor went to Dan Quisenberry, who finished 9th in the MVP voting, higher than any other pitcher despite being just 3rd in the Cy Young voting. Screwy, huh?

Wait, it gets better. Guess who else finished higher in the MVP voting? Rollie Fingers, one place and one point higher than his teammate, Pete Vuckovich. That’s right, while one section of the BBWAA decided that Pete Vuckovich was the best pitcher in the league, another section decided that he wasn’t the most valuable pitcher on his own team.

I realize that there’s always been some ambiguity about whether or not the Cy Young Award should go to the league’s best pitcher or the league’s “most valuable” pitcher, sort of a pitcher’s equivalent to the MVP. That’s never made much sense to me, but I recognize the confusion exists. Still, no matter how you slice it, the BBWAA screwed up this award. If the award was supposed to go to the most valuable pitcher, well we’ve already seen that other members of the BBWAA decided at least two pitchers were more qualified than Vuckovich. And if the award was supposed to go to the best pitcher, clearly it should have been someone other than Vuckovich. My personal choice would have been Dave Stieb, whose neutralized record while pitching for a sub-.500 Toronto team, was 21-11, with a 2.84 ERA and 144 strikeouts in a whopping 288.1 innings. Caudill would have been a great choice, too (12-9, 26 saves, 2.35 ERA, 111 strikeouts in just over 95 innings for a bad Seattle team). Or, of course, Quiz (9-7, 35 saves, 2.57 ERA in over 136 relief innings, a huge number). Hell, I could name a good two dozen pitchers here.

But, alas, the voters decided that Vuckovich was their man. While it remains an indefensible choice, at least it resulted in us having the immortal Clue Haywood. That’s more than we have to show for most BBWAA foul-ups.