Posted by John Brattain on Sunday, March 1, 2009 at 5:48 pm

Well, I just finished the controversial Joe Torre/Tom Verducci screed and will be doing a formal review in the very near future. Regardless, it will provide fodder for a lot of columns and thoughts throughout the season.

To begin with, I think the initial rhetoric over the book was way over the top. I really didn’t get the feeling that anyone was being thrown “under the bus” even though selected excerpts taken out of context might make it appear that way.

For the most part, it seemed like a good faith effort by Torre in detailing his time with the Yankees and the various people he came into contact with–it seemed fair even though I wouldn’t take as gospel everything in it having only heard his side of the story. It actually served as a very insightful behind-the-scenes look at how winning teams are put together and that while talent is indispensable–a lot more is needed to create a championship ball club.

Quite frankly, within the pages you get a fairly good idea of “tangiblizing” (not a real word obviously) what is often referred to as the “intangibles.” I’ll probably get into this in more detail at The Hardball Times this year but I came up with an analogy that I think best describes how an inferior collection of players can form a better team than a bunch of superstars.

When I use the word “inferior” I don’t mean vastly so, think in terms of the difference between a team with the talent levels of the Boston Red Sox and the Toronto Blue Jays–the Jays are an inferior team but can generally hold their own against the denizens of Fenway even though the Red Sox would generally be expected to win.

Anyway, imagine a tug-of-war between 25 bodybuilders and perhaps 25 high school football players; generally, you would give the edge to the big, beefy barbell boys in such a match up as well you should. However, suppose the bodybuilders each decided to pull the rope in whatever direction suited them; to the left, right, upward, toward the ground, backward etc. while the all the high school football players pulled the rope in the same direction…

Well, that’s the picture I got when comparing the Yankees of 1996-2001 to the 2002-present; the earlier edition didn’t have the sheer talent on hand of the latter clubs but they did all pull in one direction and were enormously successful. The overspending Yankee teams of later vintage pulled in all directions–they were too talented not to win at least 90 games most years but there were too many directions–too many agendas on the team and not a consistent focus.

It does show up.

The baseball season is a marathon and as such there is sentiment of “We’ll get ‘em tomorrow” if things go bad at some point in a game and while everybody on the field is certainly putting forth effort, it’s with an expectation of failure on that given day which can become a self fulfilling prophecy. However, at what point does a team reach that mindset in a game: after getting down six runs in the early going; three unearned runs breaking up a tie game in the sixth; when there’s a match up of No. 1 starters and one of them gives up a three-spot before getting an out?

Or, is there such a “desperation to win” as the book says that they’re busting their butt trying to win until the final out is recorded and expect to defy the odds and pull out a victory?

Teams (and players) do vary quite a bit in that respect.

It’s all part of the somewhat quantified intangibles that I learned from the book.

Probably the biggest tangible difference between the pre-post 2001 Yankees was the depth and quality of the starting pitching and the numbers do bear this out but you don’t fully appreciate how huge it was until you delve into Torre’s thoughts on the matter.

Again, this is just a basic overview as I will expound more thoroughly on these and other aspects of it in the near future.

At any rate, I do think that Torre had good reason to be unapologetic about what he contributed–for instance, for the first time I actually feel an affinity for Alex Rodriguez. He comes across in the book as unmistakably human with all too human quirks, foibles, insecurities etc. It’s easy to see that not having a strong male role model growing up stunted his personal growth and I feel more strongly than ever that he was exploited by Scott Boras who knew precisely what buttons to push.

Further, he had trouble fitting into the Yankees’ clubhouse largely because how he was treated (read: spoiled) by Seattle and Texas. He seems to have had drummed into his head that the best way he could help his club win was by being incredibly self-centered about his statistics. Somebody made the world revolve A-Rod and he came into a team where the world revolved (or once did) winning it all with little regard to personal numbers and he was lost in such an environment.

Remember Steve Phillips remarks about Boras’s outrageous demands when Rodriguez was a free agent after 2000 while Phillips was GM of the Mets? It’s hard not to believe Phillips in light of the preferential treatment A-Rod received in Texas and it was a major culture shock to both Rodriguez and his new teammates when the Bronx Bombers traded for him.

If anything, Torre and Verducci make the future Hall of Famer finally seem human and quite frankly, I find myself liking him a lot more than I did before I read the book and hope he finally conquers his inner demons.

Speaking of which…

I’m going to have to do a lot of thinking about my view of statistics. Regular readers of my work know that while I generally accept a not insignificant number of sabermetric principles I am by no means a sworn advocate of “(most) everything is explained by the numbers.” As Torre says, the game has a heartbeat and the player’s blood flows the same as anyone else. My latest mental quandary surrounds whether the same numbers (even sabermetrically adjusted) are of equal value. It’s sort of a “chicken-or-egg” question in that I wonder if a collection of terrific statistical accumulators automatically makes a winning team or whether winning teams simply end up with players with terrific accumulated stats.

It’s along the lines of my thoughts on run distribution over raw accumulation.

I’m probably not explaining myself really well right now but let me put it another way: take two lineups of slightly unequal talent; the (batting) team with the better talent each unequivocally set the goal of hitting 30 HR and driving in 100 runs come hell or high water. The lesser team simply worries about winning each game unconcerned with personal stats–which team would win over the course of the season? Who would end up with the better statistics?

Let’s look at two seasons of Yankee third basemen: Alex Rodriguez in 2004 and Scott Brosius in 1998:

Player AVG   OBP   SLG  HR  RBI  OPS+

A-Rod .286  .375  .512  36  106  131

S-Bro .300  .371  .472  19   98  121

Now, put 2004 Rodriguez on the 1998 Yankees and Brosius on the 2004 club and how much of a difference does it make on those two teams despite Rodriguez’s better stats? The answer seems simple based on the numbers but does the “when” those hits/walks/outs occurred and their impact on their teammates factor in and if so–how much?

I don’t know–it’s something I will be exploring.

My latest mischief…

Follow the…Buddy? (Hardball Times)

Bud Selig: Buddy or bully? (SMSN Sports)

The golden age of drug use in baseball (SMSN Sports)

A personal note…

As you’ve no doubt noticed, my contributions here and at THT are down. I’m sorry about that–I have been dinged with a health issue regarding my heart and it’s–barring a miracle–going to require surgery and likely quite soon. Between my energy level being almost nil coupled with my body adjusting to shots of nitro and a steady diet of beta blockers even getting out of bed is a chore some days (daze?).

Nitro is what I like to call “instant hangover”–one spray, wait one minute and feel like Andrew Stoeten and Dustin Parkes after a night of merry-making.

Nasty, nasty stuff.

Hopefully, all I’ll require is an angioplasty but there does loom the chance of bypass surgery–if it’s the latter I have no idea how long I’ll need to get back in earnest. If it’s the former it should be pretty straightforward. I’ve kept myself in good shape with good personal habits and I have supernatural recuperative powers and will not need much down time.

No, I’m not getting old–now shut up and either pull my finger or get off my lawn!

Regardless, I don’t think my life is in danger and cannot

(had you going–didn’t I?)

…wait for the energy bounce back after my body has recovered from the shock of surgery. I expect to cover the baseball season as cantankerously and petulantly as always. In the meantime, I’m going to keep writing as much as my energy level and personal feelings of grievance and indignation will allow so consider yourselves forewarned.

Best Regards

John