I Am Bill James and I Am Smarter Than You

Greetings, fuckwits. You are all lucky enough to be in the presence of the most freakishly intelligent man in the history of professional baseball. I find your invitation to the Pasadena Shrine of the Eternals appropriate, and thus, I’ve decided to actually show up and do a little Q & A. It’s not quite the baseball Hall of Fame, but that will obviously come in time. My minions call me "The Sage of New Hampshire," and this gives me the right to pass on a hearty “fuck you” to Warren Buffet, "The Sage of Ohmaha." Whereas I’m the sage of my own state, he’s only a sage of a city, so I own his ass. What do you mean New Hampshire doesn’t count as a state? Lick my balls.

For years I’ve been saying things like “It’s entirely possible to be completely successful in the baseball business without ascribing to any of my work.” I, much like the vast majority my followers (just look on Internet message boards everywhere), am reversing this statement, and saying that it is total bullcrap, and anyone who doesn’t follow in-depth statistical baseball analysis should automatically lose the right to watch a game of professional baseball. I mean, why watch when you can't possibly understand everything what's going on? In some cases, said person should lose the right to breed, because he/she might have a son, and that would pervert this glorious eugenics of baseball I’m striving to achieve, here. Baseball is not for the plebs, people! It is for we happy few, we band of egg-heads, who have never played an ounce of the game professionally yet still by the light of our incalculable intellects, know absolutely everything there is to know. On to your almost certainly dumb questions.

What’s your opinion of Darin Erstad, and considering his track record with the Angels, isn't a player like that valuable on a championship team?

Haha. HAHAHAHA. BWAHAHAHA!! In the Dark Ages, hordes of roving barbarian Cossack tribes in what is now Southern Russia would conquer neighboring peoples, and in a fit of sport, would throw their infant children to hungry wolves and watch them be eaten. That’s what I’d do to Darin Erstad, if I had a time machine, which by the way, I’m inventing, and fuck you, it’s already patented, because it’s a motherfucking time machine. Darin Erstad blows donkey balls. He can’t hit, he can’t field, and he can’t play. And who gives a monkey-shit about how he “hustles” and “won championships”? I don’t know how many times I have to say this: if I can’t put it in a spreadsheet, dickhead, then it DOESN’T.FUCKING.EXIST.

Look where that little bitch is right now-- trying to avoid getting DFA’ed by the Chicago White Sox (or CHA for any of you non BP subscribing cock goblins). Any team that steals, bunts, and gives consistent AB’s to Scott Podsednik, deserves a punch right in the pussy. Darin Erstad sucks, he should die, next question.

Are you impressed with Brewers 1B Prince Fielder, and what does his progression mean for smaller market teams?

According to the tools that I invented (praise me) such as VORP, RCAA, Win Shares, and other super-cereal-statistics given by me solely to the Boston Red Sox to be unleashed like a tactical nuclear warhead, I can tell you that Prince Fielder is the best overall player in terms of everything, relative to cost. Yea and what else is new? What this means for smaller market teams is that it is time to stop spending big money on marquee free agents if your team is filled with a bunch of crap players. The only way to make your team succeed is to undergo a harsh rebuilding process where nearly each and every one of your core players is acquired through the draft. What if you can't draft, or afford the outrageous signing bonuses top picks get nowadays? Too bad bitch. Now, this rebuilding typically takes around five years, and by that time your fans will either be gone, rooting for the Yankees, or giving their energies to a different sport, but how is that my fucking problem exactly? I just make the rules, if you don’t like the way how they’re used, then tough testicles. After all, the best part about sitting in an ivory tower is pissing on the people below you.

Mr. James, you’ve never apologized for your criticisms of the Dowd report, despite Pete Rose proclaiming his guilt and affirming everything written in its findings. Don’t you think that as one of the leading voices in baseball theory, you have an obligation to speak your piece on a corrupting influence in the game?

No comment, next question, and fuck you.

Horrors of horrors, the New York Yankees haven’t won a World Series in seven whole years. Isn’t it better to let A-Rod opt out, and try to rebuild the team around pitching and defense? The guy isn’t at all clutch!

I remain unconvinced about the theory of “clutch” and it’s usefulness to baseball analysis. But what I do know is that you are a drooling, dribbling, retard. According to my statistics (again, praise me) Rodriguez is the best all-around player in the game. Consider that with the dollars Texas has contributed, and Rodriguez is a relative bargain for New York. There are some indicators that in a short series, pitching and defense wins (the sample sizes are too small obvi), but your belief that the Yankees should rid themselves of their best player in order to achieve this is somewhere between the stupidest idea that’s ever defiled the sanctuary of my glorious mind, and guganuafia’a, which is stat-speak for “you are a dumbshit.” But sure, fuck it, boo the fucker and drive him away. It makes my job a hell of a lot easier.

In closing, I’d like to thank Pasadena, but truly, I am already an “Eternal.” It was a nice ceremony, with balloons and sangria, but I was expecting something more… regal. After all, I am the father of statistical baseball analysis, the most important man in baseball, and (according to some people) the finest living being on the planet. Armchair net jockeys everywhere use my teachings like a voodoo talisman against any who would dare say that it's important to steal when the team can't seem to score. I’m like Kim Jong Il from the North Korean perspective, except I look like the gay guy who won the 1st Survivor competition. Next time, I hope you change your veneration practices accordingly, and try hard not to be so stupid.

The Brewers Are Still Doomed

Have you ever eaten a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup while sitting on the toilet? It’s an interesting experience to say the least. The sweet, chocolate, peanut-buttery taste caresses your taste buds in their succulent awesomeness, but because of the look of the candy and the place you’re sitting, the thought never leaves your mind that “Oh my God, I think I'm eating a giant sample of stool!” That’s basically how I feel about the 2007 Milwaukee Brewers. It might look and taste good, but after thinking about it, things go downhill pretty quickly.

The positives about these guys are the platitudes: “They play the game the right way,” “they have a lot of youth and enthusiasm,” “the game comes easy to them,” etc. Have you ever actually looked at the way their lineup is constructed? The starting pitching is not that great, and wunderkind Ben Sheets is still an injury waiting to happen. After one more ten strikeout game his arm is bound to explode. Ace-closer Francisco Cordero has been among the NL’s best this season, but this is the player who made a Howard Hughes style meltdown in Texas look like cold feet before marriage. Before you know it, the guy will be blowing saves, throwing up like Willie Beaman in the bullpen before games, and keeping his urine in plastic bags.

"It’s the wave of the future"
The hitting is not much better. JJ Hardy has been playing over his head for a while now, and is due for a regression. Do you really thing he’s going to hit 35 HR’s, and have a slugging percentage around .500? There is no chance the 2nd coming of Alex Rodriguez could play in Milwaukee-- it’s seriously not possible. Besides, the guy is basically the Brady Quinn of professional baseball. Is this the kind of dude you’d really want your team to rely on down the stretch? And speaking of “stretching,” “closing windows”, and JJ Hardy, let’s just say that the one in the upper-deck isn’t the only chute that Bernie Brewer is sliding around in.

“Oh my God you guys, I think I’m getting a clue!”
And speaking of horrific regressions, how about 3B, SS and OF Bill Hall? It seems like last year was the serious aberration, and this season is indicative what Hall can do. This guy’s strikeouts make Mike Cameron look like Tony Gwynn, except thinner and not nearly as black. Not to mention that by the time Hall is finished getting worse, the guy’ll be playing in AAA, and will have by that time committed a fantasy baseball holocaust not even the owners of Andruw Jones have ever seen.

If these things happen (and the way things have gone for the Brewers and their fans, they must) then the team’s division rivals are bound to overtake them eventually. Although it’s generally not a good idea to count on the Cubs for anything other than national embarrassment, the 300 million dollar men are starting to come around as of late, and are only about four games back in the division standings. In addition, the computer projections have always like the Cards in this division, and if Albert Pujols makes up for the time that was lost earlier in the season, and the Rick Ankiel experience gives the team a Josh Hamilton-level boost, then the NL Central crown will be ripe for the picking.

Time to face the facts—the Brewers are doomed. The club right now is hanging by a thread, and is probably a Paris Hilton hookup away from all out implosion. They might have tasted pretty good at first, but all you’ve really been eating is a nice chunk of feces. It might have taken a little longer than I originally projected, but the season is over nonetheless. Enjoy watching the playoffs at home once again, gentlemen, and please watch where you eat.

Too weird not to post.

Tommy Can You Hear Me

Tom Verducci, I’d like to preface this by saying I’m a big fan. Huge fan, even. Considering you’ve racked up national sports writing awards like the Yankees have racked up championships, I’m sure I’m not the only one. Your writings have anointed you as one of the great caretakers of the game of baseball, and your first-hand take on what it’s like to participate in a Major League spring training or to umpire a spring training contest, are writings that enrich our enjoyment of America’s Pastime.

But I think someone needs to tell you (and I’d like you to sit down when you hear this) you are NOT a Toronto Blue Jay. Just because the last ever Canadian baseball team decided it would be a good idea get some easy publicity and let you roll around in the sand for five days doesn’t give you entry into the fraternity that is “The Show.” And I mean, seriously, how close can you get to some guys after knowing them for five days? Vernon Wells is not your homey. BJ Ryan was probably not going to be the first one to tell you that he’s hurt, despite the posturing of his team, and Doc Halladay is not your huckleberry.* Outside of proving to the world that baseball players are outstandingly good compared to the rest of the planet, the most notable thing you did, really, was listen to a lecture on why eating feces is bad, and most of us get those lectures at work all the time. I get them daily.

Will never go to the bathroom and then touch the spread

And now you’re playing in the Hall of Fame game? Josh Lyman in the West Wing (Brad Whitford’s character) had a terrific line, saying “There comes a time in every man’s life when he realizes he won’t be playing professional baseball.” That time in your life is now. You’re a lot like that weird guy in Happy Gilmore following around Shooter McGavin, a man would do anything to be closer to the sport. It’s beneath you, and it’s embarrassing. Journalist’s forays have often yielded disastrous, though hilarious, results, and before you know it, your wife is going to have the ass** because you’re spending all your time in the batting cages getting ready for your next “story”, in the utterly insane notion that some team, somewhere, will actually give you a shot. Madness, I tell you. The D-Rays might have been up to it once upon a time, but they’re actually somewhat respectable right now. The Brewers, despite their impending doom, also will not want you. Toronto has seen what you have to offer, and still no sale.

Well Gustavo, I'll be at the Red Lobster if you change your mind!

Keeping this up makes you the journalistic equivalent of Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite. Uncle Rico was funny because he was a loser. You’re not yet a loser. However, you’re getting very, very close to being one, so consider this an intervention. You might have been a Toronto Blue Jay, but you’re not any longer. Channel your athletic drive into beer-league softball, or better yet, kicking the crap out of Boston sports writers for an afternoon. The sooner you realize this, the sooner you can return to you fantastic writing. It’s not quite the show, but you’re still part of the game.

*Because you need to know where this is from:

**and this too.

The Brewers are Doomed

Surprise, bitches. After what can liberally be called the 1st half of the season, the Milwaukee Brewers are atop their division for first time since Micheal Jackson was black. The Brewers’ history since then has been one of ignominious failure, losing most of their games with remarkable frequency. They’ve come around of late, due to some deals that have made the 2003 Curt Schilling hose job look like No! No! Nanette*, and the rest of the division (read: Cardinals! Cardinals! Cardinals!) being the poster children for organizational dysfunction.

This is sort of cute, because the Brewers really barely even qualify as a major league franchise. They play in the National League, which in some eras has been grounds for contraction. Their mascots are on par with most minor league teams, the slide is beyond kitschy, and has any prominent recent major leaguer even been the best player on the Brewers? Richie Sexon doesn’t count, and Roy Oswalt is better. Also, do we need to even get into the Mr. 3000 debacle? No other team would be comfortable being associated with such a travesty, but the Brewers felt right at home. The entire back story for the movie was that the Brewers were even historically bad, and they still said “ok?” Anything for publicity, right Uncle Bud?

At least it was better than Pride
Such a joke of a franchise can’t possibly be successful for this long, so naturally they’re doomed. Ben Sheets is bound to get re-injured sooner or later. Rickie Weeks, the second coming of Gary Sheffield, is going to start airmailing throws over 1st in no time. Eventually their players will become old enough to drink and all hell will break loose, with a sex boat cruise that makes the 2005 Minnesota Vikings look like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in comparison. This is so obvious, it’s barely even a story.

Immerse yourselves in the waters of Lake Minnetonka

The real story will be what Bud Selig will do when the Brewers begin to falter. Will there be instant Vince Mcmahon-style rule changes? Sausage races counting as runs?** The infield fly rule extending to the 1st and 3rd base crowds? Sending in Bill Alphonso as the special guest umpire? The question is not will this happen (it must) but how hilarious will it be? Selig has always struck me as a feckless, doddering old coot, whose dealings with the steroids controversy reminds one of the Iran hostage scandal, but with far more disastrous global consequences. Bud should get his Vince on-- it’s not like his legacy can get any worse. All things considered, it’ll probably end up saving (at least in terms of entertainment) what will eventually become yet another lost season for the Brew-Crew.



*Nice job on that one, Joe Garagiola. It only cost you your reputation and career.
** This will, of course, have either the Pirates or Cubs re-sign Randall Simon. But considering the direction of those teams at this point it’s probably to be expected.

UPDATE: No comment from the peanut gallery?