Face it. The sports world is plagued by problems. These range from overpaid players to unequally financed teams. But the real problem is the number of statistics that supposedly matter and that inundate us every day.
Allow me to introduce the Stat-O-Meter, a comprehensive analysis of the comprehensive analysis the geeks at ESPN come up with.
Let’s start with baseball. Bill James, “The Father of Sabermetrics,” has divided baseball into these statistical categories:
1. 7-year-olds trying to play baseball
2. 10-year-olds
3. High School
4. College
5. Minor League
6. The Majors
Through high school, James says, the stats are few, and those that exist are hazy and unreliable. The amount and variety of statistics multiplies through college and the minors, culminating in the majors where, he added, “nuts like me grind them out by the ton.” Here is just a sampling of what statisticians have come up with:
The basics include your standard, everyday, USA Today stats. They give you the stuff that acts as a normal level of athletic prowess; one of those you’ll see is “secondary average”: (TB-H+BB+SB-CS)/AB, a baseball stat. Wait. I lied, that goes in the ESPN geek zone.
The real ones include “passer efficiency rating,” which is too complex for me to explain in English. I see it all the time in the papers, but it just doesn’t add up. Just know it’s for football, okay. Also in the football realm, statistics like “third down conversion percentage” and “yards per play” tell us how well football teams move the ball and act under pressure.
Hockey provides the “plus/minus” (goals scored by the player’s team while on the ice, minus goals scored by opposition). The only thing it indicates about a player is whether he plays for a crappy team or the Stanley Cup Champions.
“Earned run average” and “pitches faced” are two more from baseball land. Any erect-walking mammal with an ant’s nostril of sense should understand these.
For sheer ability to maintain control of the rock, look no further than basketball’s “assist/turnover ratio.”
We already know about that stuff. I’m yawning from looking at this. Fellows like James are looking to the future. They want to create new analysis out of old stats. So far, they’ve done pretty well, but a few odd ones exist. Observe: “The New Stuff the Wonks at ESPN have come up with.”
They can even make fun of themselves at Es-PUN, as the Stat-O-Meter has calculated that “SportsCenter” mentions approximately 3.8 random statistics such as “The Kings are 7-3 on Tuesdays” per episode.
Do we need to know a team’s record on a single day of the week? Of course not. I can just imagine the Kings’ coach in the locker room telling his players “Ok, it’s a Tuesday night, and the heads on ‘SportsCenter’ just announced we’re undefeated on Tuesdays, so we’ve got it in the bag!”
It just doesn’t work like this.
We want useful stats like the weight of the padding worn by an NHL goalie, which is thick enough to stop bullets at point-blank range.
But we can even go further. Why not tell the public the average number of pitches faced per at-bat as a measure of a hitter’s patience? In the same vein, a nut might determine the average number of hacks taken while in the on-deck circle while he’s watching the guy ahead of him face the missiles. The NBA needs to develop a new formula. I’ve already named it: “the ego margin.” Designed originally for the L.A. Clippers, it can account for why a team loaded with young talent sucks so badly, but it fits around the league.
College football has brought us the ultra-subjective Bowl Championship Series (BCS) formula, involving the averaging of a vast range of different statistics, to determine the Division 1-A Champion game teams. What is it? Rick Reilly of Sports Illustrated had a conception of it, but by the time he printed it the suits who set it had already overhauled it. It’s not particularly fair, either. Only six major conferences are even eligible to play in the BCS Bowls. Well, seven if you count Notre Dame, which is only in there for financial purposes.
But baseball is the worst. With so many statistics, the game can be analyzed in all directions. The “adjusted average winning percentage” in other words, how good would your squad be if you had nine Barry Bondses in the lineup instead of the cheesecakes you actually employ?
A new factor has recently arisen. The “fingertip miracle factor” just arrived after that Cubs fan was an inch from letting Moises Alou make the catch, and, while we’re at it, this may have just added another point to the “Cubs Curse” statistic…
Leave a Reply