Nachoman’s Baseball

Winning is Not Transitive, and Other Broadcaster Fallacies

The Reds swept three from the Mets; The Astros swept three from the Reds; The Mets swept three from the Astros. So, who’s the better team?

In a masochistic sort of way, I love listening to college football wonks discuss this issue. A few years ago, it “wasn’t fair” that the third-ranked University of Miami didn’t make the championship game – both they and the number two team (Florida State) had one loss, and Miami had beaten Florida State. But by that logic, the University of Washington – who was ranked fourth – had themselves beaten Miami, so shouldn’t Miami have been simultaneously ranked under Washington?

The answer, of course, is such transitive logic simply doesn’t apply to sports. The “better” team has the higher probability of victory, but is not insured of victory.

Baseball’s division winners tend to win in the neighborhood of 60% of their games in the regular season. In the playoffs, one might expect that percentage to drop, because good teams are playing each other – no longer can the Yankees pad their record by heading to lowly Kansas City for a series. We should thus not be surprised when good teams lose in the playoffs. Even assuming that the 60% victory clip continues in the postseason, the better team will only win about 70% of its best-of-seven series, and even fewer of its best-of-five series.

So, think about this… each year the postseason includes three best-of-seven series, and four best-of-five series. Statistically, more than 30% of these should result in the “worse” team winning, even if we’ve made the generous assumption that the better team will win 60% of the time. Folks, that means we should expect two “upsets” each year. Nothing to get upset about, Braves fans!

I’M TALKING ABOUT HOME RUNS, BUT PITCHING DOMINATED THE WEEK

Fans and baseball marketers are obsessed with the home run. The home team often announces the distance of a home run: for example, Wily Mo Pena’s homer Sunday was announced as “498 feet.” Let this be a physicist’s warning: the Nachoman has little faith in such numbers.

In one of his many alternate lives, the Nachoman works for STATS, INC. as a baseball scorekeeper. For each game I score, I keep an excruciatingly detailed scorecard, inputting events into STATS’s database as they happen.

Part of the detailed scorecard is a record of “direction/distance/velocity”: for every ball hit in play, I have to estimate how far it went (plus or minus ten feet); in which direction was it hit (the field is lettered in 26 azimuthal segments, with A representing a ball hit near third base, N up the middle, and Z near first base); and how hard the ball was hit (using simply “soft, medium, or hard”). Obviously some of this information is subjective, or difficult to ascertain off of the television coverage. STATS has three reporters working every game. The final information that STATS enters into its database is a conglomeration of the three reporters’ entries, with major discrepancies checked on videotape.

While the estimate of a ball’s distance is often difficult to make, at least the definition of “distance” is reasonably unambiguous for STATS, INC.: A ground ball’s “distance” depends on where the ball was fielded; a fly ball or line drive’s “distance” depends only on the spot where the ball first hits the ground.

When the home team announces the distance of a home run, though, you never know what you’re getting. Some parks use the distance from home plate to the seat or landmark in the outfield that the ball hits. Others, though, try to estimate how far the ball would have flown had the stadium not gotten in the way. For a long fly that hits high in the stands, such a calculation is fraught with uncertainty. This hypothetical flat-ground distance depends on three variables: the height above the ground that the ball hits, the distance the ball has already traveled, and the direction that the ball is moving. A ball that’s still rising when it hits the outfield seats will go farther than one that is falling; balls that are stopped high in the upper deck will generally go farther than those that land in lower seats. Teams have formulae for making this estimate – years ago the Nachoman saw a newspaper article interviewing someone whose job it was to input one of four approximate trajectories into a computer program that spit out the distance.

Brian A. Raue of Florida International University’s physics department ran a computer simulation to check out the distances that the Miami Marlins announce for their team’s home runs. His first finding: The distances displayed on the outfield wall are off by 2-3 feet throughout the stadium.

His principal conclusion was that the Marlins’ distance estimates could be accurate to better than five feet, with one major caveat: someone has to make a snap judgment about the direction the ball is traveling, calling this either a “line drive”, “average fly ball”, or “towering fly ball”. If this judgment is off, then so is the estimated distance, sometimes by as much as 10% (for example, off by about 40 feet on a 400 foot home run). Thus, the nearest-foot precision implied by “498 feet” is bogus. See Dr. Raue’s article here.

The Nachoman’s suggestion is that we dispense with the science. I strongly suspect that the home team exaggerates its team’s home run distances anyway, whether or not their formulae are fundamentally accurate. Isn’t it better to describe verbally how far the ball went? “Upper Deck”, “Into the river”, “Into the light tower”, “Onto Yawkey Way”, “Over Waveland Avenue”… these are phrases that are far more descriptive and emotionally satisfying than mere numbers.

THE GAME WAS DECIDED BY DEFENSE, BUT NO ERRORS WERE COMMITTED

The Reds were the last team in major league baseball to make an error this year. They were not charged with an error in last Sunday’s game in Houston; but, Ken “Spawn of” Griffey and Wily Mo Pena let a ball drop between them, causing the flu-ridden Eric Milton to throw 20 extra pitches in the inning. He tired and gave up several homers. Mr. Milton ended up going only 4.1 innings. Even the Reds manager said “That dropped ball was the key to the game.”

Remember, folks, no errors were charged, yet a defensive failure might have cost the ballgame.

Do you remember Ryne Sandberg of the Cubs? He set a record for some huge number of errorless games as a second baseman. This record says nothing about Mr. Sandberg’s ability as a defensive second baseman. He had limited range, so he didn’t get to a lot of balls that might have turned into errors. If there was any question as to whether a play should be scored a hit or an error, Mr. Sandberg always seemed to get the benefit of the call, especially at Wrigley Field, where the official scorer was well aware of the streak.

Am I suggesting that baseball stop keeping track of errors? Certainly not. Am I proposing some new metric to quantify defensive ability? No. The Nachoman is simply suggesting that baseball cannot be completely understood in terms of statistics. It’s a team game. While there are some stats that are indicative of performance, a players worth must be measured holistically. It’s like college admission – sure, SAT numbers are important, but they don’t give the whole picture of a student’s worth. A narrative comment is essential.

AESTHETICS ARE IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

Nothing is more beautiful to the Nachoman than a well-designed and well-executed play in a sporting event. Miami’s Paul LoDuca on first base broke for second on the pitch. Juan Encarnacion hit a soft grounder to the second baseman… I mean, to where the second baseman would’ve been if he hadn’t been covering second. Classic hit-‘n’-run, gorgeous to behold.

NOW THAT’S HOW YOU PITCH TO A PITCHER!

After the successful hit-‘n’-run, eighth place hitter Damian Easley came to bat. Randy Wolf plunked him – he was crowding the plate. This loaded the bases for pitcher AJ Burnett. Wolf threw four fastballs; one missed slightly low and outside, but the other three were all in the same spot, right on the low outside corner. Burnett didn’t have a prayer.

ESTABLISH THAT YOU CAN PITCH BEFORE YOU MAKE “ADJUSTMENTS”

On Friday night, Derek Lowe, now of the Dodgers, pitched a masterpiece of a game against the Padres: a 108-pitch complete game shutout. He told the Los Angeles Times a bit about an adjustment he made: his best pitch, the sinker, had been ineffective recently because batters were sitting on it, knowing it was coming. So, Mr. Lowe didn’t throw any sinkers for a while, at least until the Padres showed signs of changing their approach.

Pitch selection is the type of thing the blabbermouths on talk radio and television love to discuss, as if pitching were nothing more than a high-velocity game of rock-paper-scissors. I often hear broadcasters suggesting that an inconsistent pitcher’s problem might simply be poor pitch selection. In this particular case, the Nachoman hastens to point out that Mr. Lowe is an established veteran pitcher, who has compiled a sub-4.00 ERA in nine years of major league work. This man knows what he’s doing. If he is getting hit hard, it’s not hard to believe that a small change in strategy might fix the problem. So this might be a rare case when the blabbermouths have a point.

However, when a rookie throws a meatball to Albert Pujols, the ball will get hammered. The suggestion that a curveball or sinker might have been the more appropriate pitch is ludicrous. A pitcher cannot make clever little adjustments until he has first demonstrated a successful pattern of pitch selection. Mr. Lowe’s ability to throw either the sinker or the rising fastball for a strike has been well documented, so switching from reliance on one to the other makes sense. Gavin Floyd, on the other hand, would do better simply to throw any pitch that can end up over the plate.

WHO IS GAVIN FLOYD?

Mr. Floyd was the starting pitcher for the Phillies against the Braves on Friday night. I logged in a few minutes after the scheduled start to follow the game online. I saw only the first three events of the game:

1. Rafael Furcal walked on five pitches.

2. Mr. Furcal stole second on a 2-0 count.

3. Marcus Giles walked on five pitches.

I tuned immediately to another game, knowing that this one might as well be over already. Sure enough, the Braves scored four runs in the first inning (they could’ve scored more, except that Brian Jordan got caught in a rundown). The final score: Braves, 11-4. Mr. Floyd’s line: 3 innings, 8 earned runs, five walks.

Mr. Floyd’s Friday start could be the cover story for the Nachoman’s “trust your stuff” pitching manual. Mr. Floyd has a wicked curve ball paired with a rising fastball at 92-95 mph, according to STATS, INC.’s Scouting Notebook. His control can’t be that bad – over his minor league career, he’s averaged just over one walk every three innings. So why not throw the ball in the strike zone? “He can’t just let the Braves tee off if he leaves a pitch out over the plate,” the ESPN host might say. The Nachoman might reply, “Oh, he can do worse than 8 runs in three innings? And if he did do worse, would it matter?”

SPEAKING OF ANNOUNCERS CRICIZING PITCHES…

Whenever a ball is hit hard, the announcer says “A pitch up in the zone”, or “that was through the heart of the plate.” But often, if you look at the replay, the ball was not at all up or in the middle – it might have been right at the knees or on the corner. Does the announcer know what he’s talking about, or is he just apeing what he heard at Billy Joe Bob’s school of broadcasting, that any ball hit hard must have been a bad pitch? And that every bad pitch is “up in the zone”?

MESSING AROUND AT 0-2

Aaron Harang must have once heard the conventional[1] coaching wisdom that a pitcher should “waste” a pitch when he’s ahead no balls and two strikes. This only makes sense if the batter can be reasonably be expected to chase this wasted pitch. But if the 0-2 pitch is five feet outside, or in the dirt, then what’s the point?

Mr. Harang on Tuesday went from 0-2 to a walk on both of the first two hitters in the second inning. He did better than wasting a pitch – he wasted eight! Then Harang got ahead of the opposing pitcher 0-2, bases loaded, and threw three straight balls. The pitcher hit a three-run triple on the payoff pitch. Good thing you didn’t let anyone get an 0-2 hit off of you, though, Mr. Harang, because that would have been bad.

THE BENEFITS OF TITHING

Wednesday afternoon, Reds vs. Cardinals, Reds closer Danny Graves came in in the ninth with a two run lead and promptly walked the leadoff man on four pitches. Mr. Graves, you deserve the loss. What you got was the luckiest dang sequence…

After the walk, a fly out, a single, and a ground-rule double, runners were on second and third with one out. Larry Walker came to the plate. Graves elected to walk Larry Walker intentionally to load the bases, setting up the force at home and the possibility of the game-ending double play. That’s the right strategic move, obviously.

Except that the next hitter was Mr. Albert Pujols, best player in the game. Whoops.

On the first pitch, Mr. Pujols bounced the ball down the third base line for what looked like a game-winning hit. But drawn-in third baseman Joe Randa leapt, caught the bounder at the top of its arc, stepped on third, threw to first, game over. Mr. Graves, you were credited with[2] a save, but the Nachoman sure hopes you donate a substantial sum to your local church, synagogue, mosque, or temple in gratitude for the miracle that really saved the game.

WHY ALBERT PUJOLS IS THE BEST HITTER IN THE GAME

On Saturday Mr. Pujols broke his streak of 120 consecutive plate appearances, stretching back into spring training, without striking out. Just for comparative purposes, consider the power hitter whom the Reds like to hype as the future of their offense: Adam Dunn, who over his career has struck out once every 3.6 plate appearances. Mr. Dunn, woe be upon him who ignores the Nachoman’s 51^st thesis:

51. The batter’s sole purpose in his fleeting time at bat is to put the ball in play; even a poorly-hit ball forces the defense to make a play, while a strikeout accomplishes nothing.

CONFRONTATION SELLS

Two interesting extracurricular confrontations occurred this week. Both involved classy moves by ballplayers who could have caused a lot of trouble.

In the 2000 World Series, Roger “Not Retired Back Then” Clemens picked up a piece of Mike Piazza’s broken bat and threw it at him. Much was made of the fact that in the 2004 all-star game, Mr. Piazza was assigned to catch Mr. “Now Retired” Clemens. No fireworks erupted, though I do have my suspicions about what might have happened (see below).

Wednesday night, Mr. Clemens and Mr. Piazza once again competed for opposing teams. The game was uneventful, until Mr. Clemens laid down a bunt and was tagged out on the way to first. Mr. Piazza picked up Mr. Clemens’ bat, and stared down the line. The New York fans went wild in anticipation. And… Mr. Piazza carefully lay the bat in Mr. Clemens hands as the latter walked past and into the Houston dugout.

In Boston, right fielder Gary Sheffield ran to field a bouncing ball that hugged the three-foot tall fence. When he bent down, a Boston ruffian took a swing at Mr. Sheffield, who handled himself well – he shoved the man back into the stands, threw the ball back into the infield, cocked his fist, and… walked away.

Charles Steinberg, Boston's executive vice president for public affairs, would not say what further steps were being taken against the fan, who was ejected but not arrested. Mr. Steinberg was similarly vague about the investigation into the fan who accidentally “spilled” his beer on Mr. Sheffield during the scuffle.

What frustrates the Nachoman is not that such an incident occurred. Rather, I am disturbed at the banal and predictable reactions: “The team is considering increasing the number of signs that warn of fan interference and make more announcements at the park that interfering with a ball in play will result in ejection.”[3] What the heck good does that do? The fans

who behave properly (i.e. most of them) know that it’s against the rules to punch the opposing right fielder. An idiot who is too drunk or stupid to heed these warnings will not be dissuaded from his course of action by mere wimpy signage. The only way to stop such behavior is for the Sox to kick this fan’s figurative butt so hard and so publicly that other fans who might think it cool to clock a Yankee learn from this guy’s experience.

And I’ll bet you that before the end of this news cycle we hear someone suggesting that the stadium should limit alcohol sales, as if the cup of beer “spilled” itself on Mr. Sheffield.

HOW WOULD YOU GET BACK AT ROGER CLEMENS?

Do you remember how Mr. Clemens got crushed in his 2004 all-star start? That was very strange, considering how well he had pitched all year. Hmmm… put yourself in Mr. Piazza’s shoes.

If I’m Mike Piazza[4], I put on a polite public face, and I play down any controversy. But, while I crouch behind the plate, I quietly state what pitches I’m calling, just loud enough for the batter to hear.

Huh. Maybe we can link Mr. Piazza to the Kennedy assassination, too, while we’re at it.

TO GARNER NATIONAL RESPECT, YOU HAVE TO DESERVE IT

The Nachograndpa alerted me to this article in the Cincinnati Enquirer in which Paul Daugherty beats his chest about how the Cincinnati Bengals don’t get no respect. The Bengals are featured only once in prime time next season, while the Raiders and Cowboys, who had worse records than the Bengals’ 8-8 last year, get multiple prime time games.

For those of you who live more than 100 miles from Paul Brown’s Son Bilked the Dupes on Cincinnati City Council Stadium, you have to understand that Cincinnatians hold as an article of faith that the national media care only about states that border oceans, and that Cincinnati in particular is the victim of a vast conspiracy to downplay its many contributions to American culture[5].

Of course, the suggestion that the Bengals as a franchise might deserve respect of any sort is laughable. Okay, the last couple of years, they have cleaned house a bit. Yet they haven’t made the playoffs since 1990; they have the worst record in professional football since 1990, worse than even the pathetic Arizona Cardinals. Why should the Bengals, who once lost a scrimmage to the Little Sisters of the Poor[6], be featured over the Raiders and Cowboys, who appear in the playoffs roughly every year?

SMART HITTING

Increasingly the past few years, the Nachoman has noticed teams playing what was once known as the “McGwire Shift” against powerful dead-pull hitters. This means that, against a left-handed hitter like Barry “Sourpuss” Bonds, the shortstop moves to the first-base side of the infield. I’m sure some scouting-report obsessed television talking head will note how smart the managers have gotten, noticing players who tend to pull the ball, and playing them that way.

Against any professional hitter, and especially against extraordinarily talented players, this shift should never be effective – unless, of course, the batter in question has such an enormous ego, such an inflated view of his worth to his team as a power hitter, that he refuses to take advantage of the weaknesses in the shifted defense to get his butt on base.

On Saturday, Carlos Delgado of the Miami Marlins came to bat with a runner on third and two out. The Mets played the shift; but, with speedy Luis Castillo on third, the third baseman had to play close enough to the bag to prevent Mr. Castillo from taking a lead halfway to home. So, the Mets were providing a 30 to 40 degree area of the infield free of defense. Any type of grounder, no matter how weak, to the middle-left of the field would bring in the run in a tight ballgame.

What do you think Mr. Delgado should have done? As any little-league or junior varsity coach would say, take what the defense offers. Mr. Delgado should have cut down his swing, ensured contact to the left side, and scored the run for sure on a single.

I can hear the television talking heads now: “Delgado is not paid to hit singles, he’s paid to hit homers!” The Nachoman prefers not to dignify this sentence, the likes of which I hear all the friggin’ time, with a response. It has nothing to do with the situation I am discussing and everything to do with contract negotiations, which are not part of the game of baseball.

One might more reasonably suggest that a power hitter such as Mr. Delgado should still try to hit for extra bases here, so that he gets himself in scoring position in addition to driving in the run. In the long term, according to this logic, the Marlins will score more runs with Mr. Delgado swinging for the fences. I disagree. Baseball is a game of adjustments. If Mr. Delgado shows a willingness and an ability to adjust by taking advantage of the shifted defense, then eventually teams will have to stop shifting. At that point, Mr. Delgado has the advantage back – he has room for his hard pulled ground balls to get through the infield. Until then, though, Mr. Delgado can reach base virtually every time at bat by subordinating his power numbers to common sense.

What do you think Mr. Delgado actually did? Two humongous swings, both of which missed, and neither of which could possibly have caused the ball to travel toward the gaping infield hole. Then he got fooled by a pitch in the dirt, failed to check his swing, and struck out – score one wasted opportunity for the Marlins.[7]

DID SOMEONE RELEASE A DRAFT OF THIS COLUMN TO THE NACHOMAN’S FANTASY TEAM?

Texas third baseman Hank Blalock has had a strong week for the Electric Marshmallow, the Nachoman’s fantasy baseball club. (The team has historically been called the Electric Marshmallows, but Yahoo! limits team names to 25 characters.) On Sunday, after the Nachoman had written the above item about beating the shift, the Blue Jays played the radical shift against Mr. Blalock, who hit a weak ground ball right to where the shortstop normally plays – easy base hit. Let’s see how long the shift lasts against Mr. Blalock.

WHY THE NACHOMAN OFTEN LIKES THE NO-NAME PLAYERS BETTER THAN THE STARS

Messrs. Delgado and, as discussed last week, Griffey have shown repeated unwillingness to execute smart hitting. However, consider humble catcher David Ross of the Pirates. Mr. Ross is only in the major leagues because Pittsburgh’s backup catcher went on the disabled list. He knows that he is likely to be cruelly shipped back to Indianapolis as soon as everyone recovers his health.

Mr. Ross has had a chance to start most of the games this week, and he has gotten into a grove. On Saturday, Mr. Ross hit home runs in his first two at-bats, keeping the Pirates in the game. What do you think he did in his third plate appearance?

The typical chest-thumping major leaguer would swing even harder for the fences. After all, a three-homer day could make the lead story on Baseball Tonight. Fame! Glory! Fortune! And there’s not a downside – even if the third at-bat results in a strikeout, sportswriters are sure to focus on the two home runs already hit.

Mr. Ross bunted for an easy single against an infield that was playing deep. More important than the hit itself, Mr. Ross has improved his chances of getting on base in the future. He has sent a message to the league’s third basemen, who might now move in a few steps when Mr. Ross comes to the plate. Those few steps may allow some would-be groundouts to turn into doubles down the line.

SOMEBODY PLEASE GIVE ME TWO MILLION DOLLARS SO I CAN FEED MY FAMILY

The Nachoman has no trouble with the astronomical salaries commanded by professional athletes. They deserve that money, in the sense that people are willing to pay for the tickets and watch the ads that support six- and seven-figure paychecks. Come on, now, please don’t go holier-than-thou on the Nachoman… if you had the opportunity to be paid millions to do your job, you’d take it, so don’t say that these players should play for less than they can negotiate.

That said, though, the Nachoman cannot abide the fiction that these rich-as-Croesus he-men have to hold out for an extra million to “take care of their families.” The most recent author of such insulting drivel was Steve Kline, who rejected a lower offer from the Cardinals to accept a $2.7M per year contract with the Orioles, and is now unhappy.

Fine. Even professional baseball players have the right to be unhappy, tired, or simply in a bad mood. He says that he is not enjoying his time in Baltimore – it sounds like he is disappointed with the level of camaraderie and professionalism in Baltimore compared to what he experienced in St. Louis, but he can’t say so outright. He hinted that he was upset about poor and lackadaisical defense behind him. Fair enough, especially since the Nachoman does expect professional athletes to act, well, like professionals.

But when Mr. Kline was asked why he moved away from St. Louis, he said “I had to take care of my family.” Bull honkey, says the Nachoman. Your family would still have been somewhere between 20 and 70 times better off financially than the Nachoman’s family, and the Nachoman, while not a rich man, is not living in poverty. I refuse to begrudge you all the money you can make, Mr. Kline, but to suggest that to make less than $2.7M is to let down your family? Woah, man, you need something called perspective.

And the Nachoman won’t even deign to discuss Mr. Sourpuss Bonds’ comments about how the media has “brought down” his family – his family who, even including his mistress, has access to more capital today than I and my descendants will likely ever have.

QUALITY STARTING PITCHING UPDATE

Nachoman’s fourth of his 95 theses:

1. The starting pitcher should not think of himself as the conduit to the relief pitcher; rather, he should endeavor to pitch as many innings as possible, for it is upon the starter’s shoulders that the success of the day’s game rests.

The Nachoman Quality Start (NQS) is awarded to a starter who pitches seven or more innings with an ERA of 3.0 or less for the game. Through Saturday, Atlanta and Florida are tied for the National League lead with five NQS apiece. Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, Chicago, and Colorado all have only one NQS from their team’s pitchers.

Florida’s starters have pitched four complete games, three of which were shutouts. (And A.J. Burnett pitched another on Sunday.) These are not 150-pitch challenges to endurance, but under-120-pitch masterpieces. Think about how much wear on the bullpen has been saved. Think about how many bad bullpen pitchers don’t have to be exposed as such[8]. In the Marlins’ rotation of Josh Beckett, Al Leiter, Mr. Burnett, and Dontrelle Willis, it is the veteran Mr. Leiter who has pitched worst (though “worst” is a relative term here).

QUICK HITS

One hour and thirty-nine minutes: Seattle vs. Chicago, Saturday. Mark Burhle vs. Ryan Franklin, complete games for each. Now that’s the way to play baseball.

Aaron Harang had “Cincinnati” spelled incorrectly on his jersey on Tuesday night – it said “CNCINNATI”.

Those poor Anaheim Angels… both Saturday and Sunday the lost heartbreakers to the A’s: the A’s scored the winner on a bad throw to first Saturday afternoon, then Sunday’s game ended on a line drive double play.

READER COMMENTS

Paul, denizen of All Things Atlanta, notes that he also Pitsnoggled the Nachoman last week in racquetball, 3-0.

John Pletikapich from Cincinnati suggests that the Nachoman might consider an alternative theme name. He suggests “The Aether Wind”, in reference both to the Michelson-Morely experiment (which established that the speed of light is constant in all reference frames, demonstrating the non-existence of the aether wind) and to the typical windbag broadcasters and writers whom I taunt.

While I agree with Mr. Pletikapich that “The Aether Wind” would be an abundantly cool name, “Nachoman” was bestowed upon me more than a decade ago, and I must be loyal to it. However, I will be pleased to use this wonderful nickname for Mr. Pletikapich should I have the pleasure of referring to him in a future column.

On the subject of theme names, the Nachoman’s sister and brother-in-law are a mixed marriage – one is a Yankee fan, the other roots for the Red Sox. They currently live in Boston. In honor of their teams’ respective managers, and hoping to strike a small blow against the Nachoman’s NL bias, they choose to be referred to as Joe and Terry Nacho.

NEXT WEEK

Well, last week I said that this week would discuss the Giants since the departure of Mr. Sourpuss. I’m going to save that discussion for next week, though I don’t guarantee it even then. More likely, the Nachoman will not be able to avoid a detailed analysis of the Los Angeles Dodgers, who after their opening day defensive embarrassment seem to be able to do no wrong. But no promises either way.

[4] I choose to use this normally ungrammatical construction because it brands the Nachoman as a sportswriter. You may register your protest with the Woodberry Forest English Department at www.woodberry.org.

[6] To be fair, this only happened in a cartoon.

[7] The ball bounced away from the catcher, allowing Mr. Delgado to reach first, and allowing Mr. Castillo to score. Who says luck doesn’t play a big part in baseball?