The Hardball Times -- Eric Seidman http://www.hardballtimes.com/main Baseball. Insight. Daily. en studes@hardballtimes.com Copyright 2013 2013-05-21T08:09:15+00:00 What’s new at Fangraphs? http://www.hardballtimes.com/main/article/whats-new-at-fangraphs/ http://www.hardballtimes.com/main/article/whats-new-at-fangraphs/#When:08:15:15 Fangraphs was still finding its way. Complete with win probability metrics, game graphs, and pitch type information, Fangraphs offered all of the traditional stats with interesting extra numbers. Statistics like WPA, Leverage Index, and WPA/LI helped not just to explain the performance levels of players but also the story aspect of these contributions. By adding a writing staff to a very stats-oriented website, the goal became to provide insightful analysis while incorporating these fantastic but not terribly utilized metrics.

Curious about how the toughness of Mariano’s save situations differed from those of Bobby Jenks? Which players posted higher wins above average totals due to clutch hitting? The highest percentage of sliders thrown in the league? Which batters swung at the most pitches out of the zone? The answers to all of these questions were available at Fangraphs, which helped to separate the site from other incredibly useful baseball websites.

Over the next few months, changes and additions overtook the site. We were adding new metrics, altering the leaderboards, providing more information on the player and team pages, and doing whatever possible to improve the site from a user-friendly and information standpoint. As the weeks continued to roll by, even more metrics were added, and it soon became somewhat tough to keep up with all of the additions. Over the next few months, both Dave Cameron and I will break down these statistical additions in the hopes of developing a much better understanding across the blogosphere. For the inaugural post in this semi-regular series we are going to discuss two of the offensive additions, both of which tie into one another.

wOBA


To grasp the importance and usefulness of wOBA we must first understand why stats like BA, SLG, OBP, and OPS fall short as evaluative barometers. Batting average measures the relationship of hits to at-bats but has two major flaws: every hit counts the same and walks or other times on base are not counted. A single is clearly not worth as much as a double, triple, or home run, but average does not care. And, while a walk is not "as good as a hit," it does carry value. BA ignores the walk entirely and solely counts recorded hits as times on base while measuring them against at-bats, not plate appearances.

OBP does include walks but again fails to differentiate between the hits. SLG does differentiate between the hits, but does so in an inaccurate fashion, and ignores walks. Essentially, the ideal solution would be a metric that properly weights the different hits, values walks and other game events, and places the end result on a familiar scale.'

Luckily, a metric fitting this bill exists, and it is called wOBA. Weighted On-Base Average, developed by Tom Tango and used predominantly in The Book: Playing the Percentages in Baseball, takes the linear weights of each game event and scales the result similarly to OBP, where .330 is about average, .370+ is great, and below .310 or so stinks.

Properly weighting the events refers to the ability of each to produce runs. Ultimately, scoring runs is the name of the game on offense, and metrics like OPS overvalue hits while undervaluing walks. wOBA weights every possible outcome of a plate appearance very accurately, providing a telling window into the offensive success of a player.

Now, not every season brings with it the same exact run environment, as certain eras scored more or less runs than others. This leads us into a discussion of run environments, which are very important when discussing wOBA and wRAA. The environmental factor refers to how easy or difficult it is to score runs in a given context. This directly reflects on the value of a play. In a low-scoring season or stadium, it is less likely that a single or double will produce a run than in, say 1998, or at Coors Field. The reasoning deals with the idea that whatever is causing this low run environment—be it dominating pitchers, the stadiums, etc—makes it less likely that the hitter following the guy that just hit the single or double will get the base hit required to score a run.

The wOBA added to the site reflects this since the weights for different events are calculated on a year to year basis. A double might be worth .595 runs one season and .525 runs in another, and it would be inaccurate to apply one set of weights for the entire course of baseball history. The wOBA on Fangraphs is adjusted for run environments from a seasonal standpoint but not yet in terms of park factors. However, as we will discuss in the next section, the park adjusted result can be found in another area on the site.

As an example of wOBA in action, take a look at the 2008 campaigns of both Kevin Youkilis and Hanley Ramirez. Youk beat Ramirez in the OPS department by almost 20 points, .958 to .940. Both had great years, but OPS pegs Youkilis as the better hitter.

In terms of their slash lines, Youk hit .312/.390/.569 while Ramirez hit .301/.400/.540. Our wOBA also factors stolen bases into the mix, of which Ramirez had a 35 to three advantage. The baserunning advantage, as well as a 10-point advantage in OBP, gives Ramirez a .405 wOBA to Youkilis' .402.

Another example would be a comparison of Ramirez and Ryan Ludwick. Ludwick hit .299/.375/.591, for a .966 OPS, almost 30 points superior in OPS to Ramirez. Despite a 50 point advantage in SLG, Ramirez’s 25 point lead in OBP and lead in stolen bases places his wOBA a mere point behind Ludwick’s .406 mark. By evaluating these players solely on their slash lines or OPS, we get drastically different results, with the reasoning that the components of the slash lines do not incorporate all pertinent plate appearance events and that OPS undervalues the OBP aspect.

These were the 2009 major league leaders in wOBA:
1) Pujols         .458
2) C. Jones       .446
3) M. Ramirez     .432
4) Bradley        .423
5) Berkman        .419
6) Holliday       .418
7) Quentin        .414
8) A. Rodriguez   .413
wOBA is available on the player pages and leaderboards at Fangraphs, and, in a perfect baseball world, would be one of the primary evaluative barometers.

wRAA


wOBA also has another tremendous usage, as it easily converts to offensive runs above average. Titled wRAA, Weighted Runs Above Average, this conversion offers the offensive component in our player valuations. The formula to convert wOBA to wRAA looks like this:

((wOBA – lg wOBA)/Scale) * PA

In English, that is the league average wOBA subtracted from the individual wOBA. The difference is then divided by a scale to normalize for the aforementioned run environments. This scale is generally around 1.15, which represents the weights that season are 115 percent greater than the "standards" weights calculated. In doing so, we more closely match that season’s OBP. This scale is only necessary to convert the wOBA figure into runs above average.

Once the difference between individual and league wOBA meets the wOBA scale, the quotient is multiplied by the batter’s total number of plate appearances. Using Ramirez once more, who has a .405 wOBA in roughly a .332 wOBA league, with 693 PA, we see that he is worth +44 runs above average. Due to the PA aspect, wRAA rewards playing time while wOBA does not. Ramirez may trail Ludwick by one wOBA point, but leads him by five actual runs. And Ludwick has a four-point lead over Youkilis but falls just one run ahead in wRAA.

wRAA, like wOBA, is not adjusted for park environments on the Advanced section of the player pages and leaderboards, but is on the Win Values sections. Under the pseudonym ‘Batting’, the wRAA figure produced from the wOBA conversion formula incorporates park factors. Hanley Ramirez clocks in at +44.3 runs, overall, but +43.8 when the adjustment for parks are taken into account. Youkilis slips from +38.1 to +36.2. And Ludwick actually increases his output from +39.5 to +40.7. After the park adjustments, Ramirez leads Ludwick by three runs, not five, and Youkilis falls from one run behind Ludwick in runs above average to four.

The 2009 wRAA major league leaders were: 
1) Pujols         68.9
2) M. Ramirez     56.3
3) C. Jones       52.2
4) Berkman        50.2
5) Teixeira       46.1
6) Holliday       46.0
7) H. Ramirez     44.3
8) A. Rodriguex   41.8
And Barry Bonds 2001-2004: 
  2001   .539   119.0
  2002   .546   111.1
  2003   .506    82.0
  2004   .538   108.8

Fangraphs has made plenty of incredible additions lately, but wOBA and wRAA are two of the most important from an evaluative standpoint. These metrics properly value offensive contributions and produce tangible runs above average results. Hopefully the matter of time before these two stats become more widely adopted is very short. Until then, know that you can find them for anybody on the site dating back to 1974.

Click here to learn about THT's download subscriptions.]]> Eric Seidman 2009-01-16T08:15:15+00:00 Here’s Johnny: How a rookie threw two consecutive no-hitters http://www.hardballtimes.com/main/article/heres-johnny-how-a-rookie-threw-two-consecutive-no-hitters/ http://www.hardballtimes.com/main/article/heres-johnny-how-a-rookie-threw-two-consecutive-no-hitters/#When:05:05:15 Bucky Walters. In the process of writing a book about he and his grandson’s attempts at Cooperstown enshrinement I have been researching seasons from the past and working directly with the Reds Hall of Fame to properly tell his whole story. Well, in conducting research on the wild 1938 season, a supporting character in this story emerged: Johnny Vander Meer, of the two consecutive no-hitters fame. Ironically, Bucky’s trade from the Phillies in June 1938 landed him as a Red just in time for the second of these hitless games. The 70th anniversary of Vander Meer’s accomplishment past last month, and while I discuss this remarkable feat in the actual book, his efforts truly merited their own in-depth exploration.

Everything began on June 5, 1938, when Vander Meer and his fourth-place Reds defeated the New York Giants. The loss dropped the Giants from first place and, while not a no-hitter, Vander Meer exhibited signs that he had the “stuff” capable of keeping a team without hits for an extended period of time. After Joe Moore reached base on an infield single and slugger Mel Ott doubled him in for a 1-0 lead in the first inning, Vander Meer would keep the Terrymen hitless until the ninth inning. With two outs in the final frame, and the Giants trailing 4-1, Hank Leiber stroked a single off Vander Meer to end their offensive woes. A few batters later, after Dick Bartell had also reached base, pinch-hitter Wally Berger—who would join the Reds the very next day in exchange for Alex Kampouris—failed to produce, thereby ending the threat and the game.

The victory improved Vander Meer to 5-2 on the season and served as a bit of foreshadowing with regards to what lurked around the corner for the rookie southpaw from Midland Park, New Jersey. The Dutch Master, as he was called, would face the Boston Bees on June 11. Johnny had actually been employed by the Boston franchise, hurling for their Scranton farmhand; he would later be discarded to Nashville as part of their payment for Tiny Chaplin. In actuality, Vander Meer had thrice gone unwanted in the minor leagues. His farm odyssey began in 1933 for the Dylon farmhand of the Brooklyn Dodgers. Erratic and wild, he found himself shipped to Scranton and then, as mentioned, to Nashville. As Larry MacPhail, Dodgers VP in 1938 but previous Reds’ business manager recalled, “The Nashville manager didn’t want Vander Meer, but I liked him and obtained his release for Durham. He was a sensation there, striking out 295 and I got him for the Reds…”

Suffice it to say, Vander Meer had something to prove to the team so quick to get rid of him. His lack of control had been absent during the season to date thanks in large part to some adjusted mechanics from skipper Bill McKechnie. Additionally, Johnny had gotten over his meltdowns with a runner on first thanks to Durham manager Johnny Gooch. With a runner on first one day, Gooch called for a pitch-out but purposely let the ball go by. After the runner advanced to third he walked out to the mound and told Vander Meer, “Now Johnny you don’t have to worry about that runner on first. Stick to your pitching.”

Johnny set the Bees down in the first inning on June 11 but received a significant scare in the second. With two outs, third baseman Gil English met the ball with the fat part of his bat, driving it to deep center field in the process. Harry Craft quickly turned and engaged the ball in a race up the center field embankment. With his back to the rest of the field and glove over his shoulder he somehow managed to catch the ball, keeping the Bees hitless through two frames. The third inning would be no different as the Bees sent three more hitters to the dish, all of whom were turned away without breaking a sweat.

Unfortunately, the Reds' offense had failed to produce anything as well, having trouble with Danny Macfayden. Through three innings the game remained scoreless. In the top of the fourth, Vander Meer started by walking Gene Moore. His time on base would be short-lived, however, as Johnny Cooney hit a foul ball caught by catcher Ernie Lombardi, who promptly fired to first for the double play. Four innings and nary a hit. In the bottom of the fourth, newly acquired Wally Berger—who had actually been the star slugger for Bill McKechnie’s Boston teams of the early 1930’s—came through with a triple. Ival Goodman then singled him home to give Johnny a 1-0 lead.

Tony Cucinelli drew a walk to start the fifth inning, but an expert pickoff throw from Lombardi no more than a moment later kept the batters faced at the minimum. Vince DiMaggio was the next Vander-victim before Gil English drew a walk. English was stranded, however, and five innings had passed without a Bees hit. In fact, English’s walk would mark the last time this game a Bees hitter would reach base.

The bottom of the sixth saw Lombardi, he of the excellent defensive plays, club a two-run homer to give the Redlegs a 3-0 lead. As on as Vander Meer was, the 1-0 lead might have been plenty. After turning the Bees away in the seventh, opposing manager Casey Stengel approached Johnny, mentioning, “So you’ve got a no-hitter in your hands? Well, you won’t get it because we’re going to get you in the next inning.”

While this seemed like nothing more than a taunt or managerial tactic, according to Vander Meer, it actually informed him of the no-hitter! He had no idea to that point of what was at stake. The Bees ultimately failed to make a prophet of their skipper as Vander Meer certainly was not gotten to in the next inning… or the one after that. Johnny Vander Meer, the rookie lefthander so erratic he could not hold a roster spot in the Bees farm system, had turned in a spectacular no-hitter against the major league club. According to Lombardi, he didn’t even have his liveliest fastball either, though it had significant tail and kept the Bees off-balance. The performance would be the first since Bill Dietrich’s on June 1, 1937; it would also be the first from a lefthander since Paul Dean’s similar outing in 1934.

If only this story ended here.

Over the last two games, Vander Meer had gone 18 innings, allowing just three hits and one run. His next scheduled start did not exist, as manager Bill McKechnie had a habit of informing his starters of their duties an hour or two prior to the game, but the odds were it would take place on June 15 while playing the role of visitors against the Brooklyn Dodgers. Larry MacPhail, Dodgers VP, had been brought into save the franchise, and one of his ploys involved night games. Well, June 15 would not only be Johnny’s next start, or the day newly acquired Bucky Walters joined the team, but the very first night game in the history of Ebbets Field.

Prior to the game’s start, MacPhail had arranged for two fife and drum corps, a band, and a special race around the bases between Ernie Koy of the Dodgers, Lee Gamble of the Reds, and four-time gold medal winner Jesse Owens. For the record, Owens would lose the race though, in his defense, gave the others significant handicaps.
Vander Meer’s thought to be cured wildness had returned on this day. With a capacity crowd of 40,000—38,748 of which paid, according to Roscoe McGowen’s 1938 New York Times article—perhaps the pressure took hold. Two of those in attendance were Johnny’s mother and father, in town to take in their first ball game. Facing off against Max “Bad Boy” Butcher, who appeared in at least four previous meetings between these two teams that year, the game remained scoreless through two innings. In the top of the third, though, the Reds chased Butcher to the showers. With two men on, Wally Berger hit an RBI double, and two batters later, Frank McCormick conked a three-run longball.

As a couple more innings passed, Vander Meer admitted being nervous and jittery, but figured he would just go as long as he could. The Reds added a fifth run in the inning of the same digit, and led 5-0 against the still hitless Dodgers. The sellout crowd grew increasingly excited even though their team was currently being held hitless. It didn’t matter to them. On this day they were fans of baseball, blind to their allegiances. Johnny had issued three free passes through six innings, and after walking his fourth batter in the seventh inning, McKechnie turned to Bucky Walters. As Bucky recalled:
“…he turned and told me to ‘sneak down’ to the bullpen. So I sneaked down. Meanwhile, Vander Meer’s still got the no-hitter going. I started to warm up. I began to hear some booing. The harder I threw, the louder they booed. I realized it was me they were booing. There was no way they wanted to see Vander Meer come out as long as he had that no-hitter going.”

McKechnie never really had any intention of lifting his starter but needed to cover himself should the game, or his wildness, get out of hand. The seventh and eighth innings came and went and Johnny suddenly found himself three outs away from an unprecedented second straight no-hitter. This time, however, he was much more aware of the goings on. The Reds added another insurance run in the ninth and the crowd quickly grew tense. As Bucky noted, “you know how they get when they start to smell a no-hitter.”

The bottom of the ninth began, with all eyes focused on the no-hit kid, as Buddy Hassett knocked a ball back to the mound. A quick turn and toss later, Johnny stood two outs away from history. From there, things took a turn for the strange, as he proceeded to walk Babe Phelps, Cookie Lavagetto, and Dolph Camilli in succession to load the bases. Now facing a legitimate threat, McKechnie took a walk to the mound to calm his pitcher down. Vander Meer recalls his skipper straightening him out by instructing not to press. McKechnie claims he told Johnny, “Take it easy, Johnny, but get the no-hitter.”

Either way, Vander Meer’s nerves eased a bit as Ernie Koy stepped up to bat. He hit a grounder to third baseman Lou Riggs, who ever so carefully threw home for the force out. Despite securing the second out, the throw was so delicately placed that Lombardi had insufficient time to fire to first for a double play. One out away from immortality, Leo Durocher stepped into the batters box. Durocher had a knack for “hitting in the pinches” as they said back in the thirties.

Ball one. A called strike to even the count. A swing and a miss! The crowd, already elevated from their seats, really amped up. Ball two, again evening the count. On the 2-2 offering, Durocher crushed a heart-stopper into the upper decks. Fortunately, the ball sailed foul prior to landing. As everyone’s heart regained normal functioning, Vander Meer went into his windup, delivered the ball to the plate, and Lombardi swung. He got just underneath the ball, lofting a short fly to center field. Harry Craft perfectly aligned himself, closed his glove, and with that, the second consecutive no-hitter of rookie Johnny Vander Meer.
Bedlam ensued as fans horded the field. While his Reds teammates formed a protective shield around him, the parents Vander Meer would be swarmed by well-wishers and autograph-seekers for nearly an hour. All Johnny wanted from his no-hit bids were two baseballs, one from each, commemorating his achievements. He got more than that, though, even receiving congratulations from Franklin Roosevelt. For Vander Meer, however, the pinnacle of his achievements came in the form of three little words from his idol.

“Nice going, kid,” said Babe Ruth as he shook Johnny’s hand following the game. The Bambino had been hired as a coach by MacPhail in an attempt to boost the financial success of the Dodgers. For Johnny, shaking his hand was almost more exciting than his two no-hitters. Still, in the span of ten days, Johnny had put together 18.1 straight hitless innings. The modest Vander Meer, who would enjoy fishing with his father the next day, was certainly not the kind to embrace the massive publicity pointing itself in his direction. In fact, it seemingly annoyed him. The publicity would only grow as his next start approached. Could he do it again? Could he get three straight no-hitters?

He would again face the Boston Bees, on June 19, on the Boston turf. To the surprise of both nobody and everybody, Vander Meer held the Bees hitless for the first three innings. His streak had now run to 21.1 straight hitless innings, well ahead of Dazzy Vance’s 17.1 but still behind Cy Young’s oft-debated streak; depending on the source, Cy’s streak sat at anywhere from 23 to 25.1 hitless innings. In fact, Young sat in the Boston crowd on June 19, watching the rookie challenge one of his numerous records.
In the fourth inning, Deb Garms, who had been benched the week before against Johnny in favor of a righthanded hitter, sliced a one-out offering to center field. The ball bounced on the ground and rolled into Harry Craft’s glove. With that, the hitless innings streak had ended at 21.2. Vander Meer actually wished the first batter of the game would have gotten a hit, adding, “I could have gone over there and given Garmes a 10-dollar bill, because at some point this foolishness has to stop!”

Well, it did, but the Reds would win 14-1 behind their new “ace.” Johnny scattered four hits over nine innings of stellar work, meaning his four most recent starts looked like this: {exp:list_maker}June 5: 9 IP, 3 H, 1 R
June 11: 9 IP, 0 H, 0 R
June 15: 9 IP, 0 H, 0 R
June 19: 9 IP, 4 H, 1 R {/exp:list_maker}Even with the 21 walks issued in this span, his WHIP was well under 1.00, and he had surrendered just seven hits and two runs in 36 innings pitched. A span remarkable for anyone made even moreso when remembering this was his rookie season. The June 19 victory would be his seventh in a row, improving his season mark to 8-2. By the time his personal win streak ended at ten, he had gotten his rookie season off to a 11-2 start with two consecutive no-hitters no less. The rest of the season lacked similar kindness as he went just 4-8 from that point on.

By some accounts the rest of his career failed to live up to expectations; however, perhaps these expectations were unfairly developed after a tremendous ten-game stretch in his rookie campaign. The southpaw would make four all-star teams in his career while finishing in the MVP voting’s top 25 four times as well. He also served as a key cog on the NL pennant winning 1939 Reds team, and the 1940 World Series champion Reds team. His career mark of 119-121 is nothing to write home about, nor is his 107 ERA+, but one of the many reasons the game of baseball is so wondrous is that a player with seemingly pedestrian career statistics can attain immortality through one magical stretch.

After pitching for the Reds from 1937-49, he joined the Cubs for the 1950 season before retiring after a 1951 campaign in Cleveland. From there, Johnny went on to manage and occasionally play at every level of the minor leagues. In fact, while pitching and managing for Tulsa of the minor leagues, he tossed another no-hitter. As only a story like this could produce, the opposing manager that day would be none other than Harry Craft, who had made the key plays to preserve both 1938 no-hitters.

Johnny died at the age of 82 due to an abdominal aneurysm but, until that death, heard about his no-hitters every single day. On behalf of everyone recognizing that this feat is very likely to remain in Vander Meer’s name for a long, long while, “nice going, kid.”

Click here to learn about THT's download subscriptions.]]> Eric Seidman 2008-07-09T05:05:15+00:00 Bucky Walters: A forgotten legacy http://www.hardballtimes.com/main/article/bucky-walters-a-forgotten-legacy/ http://www.hardballtimes.com/main/article/bucky-walters-a-forgotten-legacy/#When:05:03:15 Why Cy,” back in February, I received a wide array of e-mails. Some praised the ideas presented, some offered advice on alternative methods, and others yelled at me because Cy Young had 511 wins and it is pure blasphemy to suggest the award was improperly named.

One particular response to the article stood out from the rest: A reader named Jeffrey pointed out that every pitcher with three or more hypothetical awards had been inducted into the Hall of Fame except Bucky Walters. After a cursory scan of Bucky’s statistics, I wrote him off as “not having the numbers.”

I then received a document from Jeffrey comparing Bucky’s statistics to several of his peers. Upon scanning the figures, the gap in my mind lessened quite a bit. Jeffrey then revealed he is Bucky’s grandson and has been working and researching for more than 15 years in the hope that Bucky will one day be enshrined in Cooperstown. What struck me as odd was that I had never heard of Bucky Walters. He had been nothing more than an old-time player I scribbled down when investigating hypothetical award-winners. It was not as if Bucky had been on my radar and information on Marvin Benard or Jayhawk Owens pushed him out; plain and simple I had never heard of him.

Jeffrey and I continued talking and I began researching Bucky’s career. Through materials sent by Jeffrey—a scrapbook made by Bucky’s wife, among others—and my own findings it became painstakingly clear Bucky had a better career than we give him credit for. The major reason for this is our reliance solely on statistics to inform us about those we never had the chance to watch. I asked about 50 people, split between my age range (early-mid 20s) and twice my age (two times early-mid 20s) and only six people had heard of him; all were from the older age range and only two of those six actually knew something about his career.

Let me make it clear from the start: This is not an article necessarily designed to drum up Hall of Fame support for a seemingly forgotten pitcher. Rather, it's an effort to help him be remembered.

Thoughts on Bucky

Included in the materials Jeffrey sent me are dozens of letters to and from Bucky from some very prominent figures. Let’s look at what others, whose opinions are likely more valuable than mine, had to say:

“Bucky was the money pitcher of his day."
—Seymore Siwoff, ELIAS Sports Bureau

“Because you are a member of our all-time teams, I thought you might like to have a specially printed copy of the complete roster. Needless to say, it comes to you with the best wishes of two of your biggest fans."
—Richard Nixon, former U.S. President

“When the time comes that you want to sign a contract and you find this one isn’t satisfactory, you tell me what figure you want me to put in and it will be put in.”
—Warren Giles, former Reds GM and VP

“I certainly remember Bucky as a great pitcher who had a magnificent career.”
—Bud Selig, current MLB commissioner

“Bucky had a wonderful career and a great reputation to match. He has reached the consideration of the Veterans Committee and I’m certain it will continue.”
—Joe Brown, past chairman of the HOF Veterans Committee

“Bucky was a great player, a great pitcher, and certainly deserving of being inducted into the Hall of Fame.”
—Tommy Lasorda, former L.A. Dodgers manager

“It’s rare that a man is a big league infielder, pitcher, and manager… but Bucky is a rare man.”
—Fay Vincent, former MLB commissioner

Early career

Born in Mount Airy, Pa., about 25 minutes from my current home, Bucky began his professional career in 1929; he was drafted by the Boston Braves and assigned to play at High Point in North Carolina. His big break came in 1933. While playing for the San Francisco Missions, Bucky had driven in 91 runs during the first 90 games of the season. Red Sox owner Tom Yawkey came to watch a Missions game and, after witnessing a 5-for-5 with five doubles performance, bought Bucky right on the spot. Despite the vast potential the Red Sox organization saw upon watching him play third base, he broke his thumb soon after arriving. Unfortunately, he never regained his natural hitting stroke.

Though his Red Sox tenure turned out to be short-lived, Bucky did have some big moments. On May 6, 1934, the team scored 12 runs off Detroit’s Firpo Marberry in the fourth inning. Contributing to these runs were a record-tying four consecutive triples from Carl Reynolds, Moose Solters, Rick Ferrell and Bucky Walters. This foursome added two singles, a walk and a double in their subsequent plate appearances that inning. One week later, May 13, 1934, Bucky hit a grand slam and a two-run homer to help the Red Sox steamroll Chicago to the tune of 14-2.

Bucky goes home

Disappointed with his production—69 for 283, 12 doubles, seven triples, eight homers, 46 RBI in 75 games—the Red Sox sold Bucky to the Phillies on June 13, 1934. He welcomed the move; it allowed him to return home to the sandlots on which he grew up playing. Back in 1934, the Phillies were somewhat of a laughingstock, often struggling to make money. Bucky remarked that the players prayed against rainouts while on road trips to help ensure they could pay their way home. Bad luck followed Bucky to Philadelphia: A case of poison ivy pushed him out of the lineup for three weeks.

Bucky’s production failed to return after his recovery. A once-promising third base prospect now struggled to remain in the lineup. Joe Brown, past chairman of the Hall of Fame Veterans Committee, even remarked, “Had he not been injured after joining Boston, he would have been a very successful third baseman. He had, as they say, all the tools.”

Phillies manager Jimmy Wilson did not want to give up on the fire-filled personality Bucky possessed but also knew it would be an upward battle for him to have a full career as an infielder. Wilson then decided it would be a great idea for Walters to become a pitcher. He had a tremendous arm from third base and the skipper saw true pitching potential. On top of that, due to the dearth of quality starters in the Philadelphia rotation, Wilson figured Bucky would not be any worse. Walters appeared in two games in 1934, giving up one run in seven innings; he struck out seven while walking two.

Third base to starting pitcher

Make no mistake: Bucky Walters did not want to pitch. Despite his injuries and the success many saw in him as a pitcher, his desire was to remain at the hot corner. Prior to the 1935 season, though, the Phillies traded for third baseman Johnny Vergez; now Bucky was not guaranteed a starting job in the infield. Walters still strived to prove he could produce as a position player. In fact, at the end of his career, he still lamented the move, saying, “My only regret is not being able to play every day.”

There are different accounts of how Wilson convinced Walters to become a pitcher, but the bottom line is that he did. According to manager Wilson, Bucky did not agree to the move until extremely intoxicated, at which point he became more “open-minded” to the idea. According to Bucky, it was Wilson’s never-ending insistence that the poorest pitcher would still make more money than a backup third baseman.

Walters also decided the move was more fiscally responsible for him and his new bride. Wilson also said Bucky had guts, and that pitcher is the only position where you either have guts, or you don’t.

In his first spring training start of 1935, things did not go as planned. Against the Reds, Bucky hit Chick Hafey and Johnny Mize with pitches, prompting Larry MacPhail to stand and shout, “Get that bum out of there before someone gets killed!”

Bucky threw hard. Today we speculate on how hard someone like, say, Rafael Furcal would throw if he came in to pitch, but this infielder-pitcher conversion actually took place. If Furcal did suddenly decide to pitch, it is unlikely he would be taken seriously, at least in the beginning; the same can be said of Bucky. According to Walters, opposing players that spring would remark, “Hey you, Walters, get in there so I can get a hit.” This motivated Bucky, a player with the DiMaggio mindset that a fan may be seeing him for the first time on any given night; he would owe it to said fan to deliver his best possible effort.

After he worked his tail off that spring, Bucky’s first regular season start saw him befuddle the defending champion Cardinals en route to a 2-1 win. He still wanted to play every day, though, saying “I’d go back to third base if it paid the same.” That season, 1935, Bucky went 9-9 in 24 starts; he averaged 6.29 IP/gm and posted a 106 ERA+. Though not earth-shatteringly spectacular numbers, they are more than respectable when given that he had been a third baseman for the past six years.

Phillies tenure

Bucky pitched for the Phillies from 1935 until the halfway point of 1938. A lack of run support and defensive aid resulted in won-lost records 9-9, 11-21, 14-15 and 4-8 for the half-season in 1938. Though won-loss records are terrible evaluative barometers, they really hurt Bucky in this case. Manager Wilson knew Bucky was progressing nicely and assured him that only great pitchers would be in the position to record as many losses. As further evidence of how highly he was thought of, Bucky was chosen to the 1937 All-Star team, back when it was not mandatory for a representative from each team to be chosen.

On June 13, 1938, Bucky stood at 4-8 with a 5.23 ERA. His Phillies tenure officially ended on this day. In deciding Bucky was the guy capable of propelling the Reds to a potential pennant, Cinncinnati GM Giles met with owner Powel Crosby Jr. about pulling the trigger on a trade.

The Cincinnati ace

“We can buy Walters from Philadelphia, and it may mean a pennant by 1939," Giles said. "It will cost around $50,000 and two players.” After just 10 seconds, Crosby responded, “Want me to loan you the money?”

The workings of the trade were a tad odd, initially nixed by Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis. The first draft saw Bucky going to the Reds for Al Hollingsworth and the 50K, with the condition that if Hollingsworth did not meet the Phillies' standards they could have a mulligan and undo the trade. Landis thought this condition to be absurd and denied the trade. The condition was replaced with Virgil Davis and the result saw Walters heading to Cincinnati as Hollingsworth, Davis and the money went to Philadelphia.

Interestingly, the trade was completed in between Johnny Vander Meer’s two no-hitters for the Reds. In fact, toward the seventh inning of the second no-hitter, Bucky began warming up and was showered with boos by the Ebbets Field crowd; they were rooting for the opposing Vander Meer on this day.

Now on a team that provided defense aid and run support, Bucky finished the 1938 season 11-6 with a 3.69 ERA. The 1939 season indeed brought a pennant for the Reds. It also saw Walters with one of the best pitching seasons of all time; he went 27-11, with a 2.29 ERA, 168 ERA+ over 319 innings. He had 36 starts, 31 complete games and a 1.13 WHIP. He was named the NL MVP and was also the winning pitcher, on Aug. 26, of the first televised game in baseball history.

The Yankees swept the Reds in the World Series. Walters was on the mound, in relief of Paul Derringer in game four, when a controversial play sealed the Reds’ fate. With the bases loaded in the 10th inning, Yankees base runner Charlie Keller knocked out catcher Ernie Lombardi—literally knocked him out—allowing three runs to score.

World Series revenge

The next year proved to be another tremendous season for Bucky, who went 22-10 with a 2.48 ERA and 154 ERA+; he went for 305 innings in 36 starts, completing 29 games. He would have been awarded his second straight best-pitcher award had it been in existence. Bucky finished third in MVP voting as well. He won his first nine decisions, not losing until June 2.

On July 31, Bucky had a 4-1 lead against New York, in the ninth, with two outs, when the game was blown. Despite getting two strikes on four consecutive batters he surrendered two two-run homers to Harry Danning and Burgess Whitehead. Though “just another game” at the time, it proved to be much more meaningful no more than one month later. In blaming himself for calling the wrong pitches, backup catcher Willard Hershberger slit his throat on Aug. 3. Devastated, Bucky never spoke of this, though it was evident he never truly recovered from its impact, even after his career had ended.

The Reds again won the pennant and, this time, were determined to make up for the “embarrassment” of being swept the year before. After the Reds lost Game 1, Bucky twirled a three-hit shutout in Game 2; the win was the Reds' first postseason victory since the Black Sox scandal in 1919. With Cincinnati down three games to two, Bucky took the mound in Game 6 and turned in a masterful two-hit shutout; he also added a home run. When asked about his performance afterward, Bucky was most excited about the home run. The Reds won game seven, and the World Series.

Wartime baseball

Much of the criticism of Walters' career is because it spanned the era of lesser competition due to World War II. Because of the war, any male aged 21-36 had to register for the draft. Bucky did so, and was listed 1-A, but never received the call to duty. Despite this he still did his part, giving motivational speeches to troops on USO tours. Accompanied by the likes of Mel Ott, Frankie Frisch, and Dutch Leonard, the players were almost trapped by the advancing German army at the Battle of the Bulge.

Wartime pitcher or not, Bucky’s best seasons resulted in him leading pitchers in wins and MVP voting from 1939-1947; only Ted Williams and Joe DiMaggio finished higher than he in MVP voting. From 1935-1949, a 15-year span, he led major league baseball in wins, 198.

A career ends

In 1944, Bucky had another masterful season, winning his third hypothetical best pitcher award. Going 23-8 with a 2.40 ERA and 146 ERA+, he also finished fifth in MVP voting. In his 11-year tenure with the Reds, he averaged a 15-10 record with a 2.93 ERA. On July 10, 1947, Bucky even umpired a game. Due to a mix-up between the league office and the umpires, nobody showed up and some players had to serve as umps. The game ran smoothly.

He won his 198th, and final, game in 1947 on Bucky Walters Appreciation Night. Never backing down to pressure, Bucky delivered a two-hit shutout. He appeared in only seven games in 1948, as he was promoted to manage the Reds during the season. He failed to win a game that season and did not appear in a game in 1949, focusing solely on his managerial responsibilities before being replaced.

In 1950, he returned as a pitcher to the Boston Braves—where it all started—with the hopes of winning two more games and getting to 200, but he was unsuccessful in his sole attempt.

From 1950-1957 he served as a pitching coach and had a brief stint as the minor league Milwaukee Brewers manager in 1952. He continued as a scout into the 1960s before returning home to Philadelphia. His baseball career spanned five decades that saw him rack up a plethora of accomplishments. Additionally, his work as a “bell cow” was integral in garnering pension plans for retired players; his work also helped the formation of the first MLB Players Association.

Remembering Bucky

If screenwriter/director William K. Howard had his way, we would remember Bucky and there would be no reason for me to write this article. The Warner Bros. filmmaker from 1921-1945 directed 54 films, but “the one that got away” always bothered him, as expressed to Bucky in a letter. Howard was so in love with Bucky’s story that he approached film executives about a movie revolving around Walters; the request was denied because baseball pictures did not sell well.

Bucky Walters always possessed a never-quit mindset, even when on dialysis late in life, but when he had to lose a leg, grandson Jeffrey remarked, it was the first time he had ever seen Bucky beaten. When he died in 1991, a day after his 82nd birthday, at a hospital no more than five minutes from my house, I was a six-year old arguing with classmates over who could be Leonardo or Donatello. Who would have known that, 17 years later, I would be one of his biggest fans?

As mentioned at the start of this article it is almost a universal certainty that people my age do not know Bucky; it isn’t until you get upwards of the 45-50 age range do we find significant percentages of those aware of his accomplishments. This is truly a shame as Bucky was considered “the money pitcher of his day.”

My odyssey with Bucky is just beginning, as this summer I am going to begin collaborating with Jeffrey on a book about Bucky’s career and his pursuit to get Bucky into the Hall of Fame. Many fans and media members express desire for players to “play the right way” and not be “controversial.” Well, Bucky Walters was a guy who gave his all every night, put his team ahead of personal success, and was so modest and appreciative of his teammates that an interviewer actually asked him to just talk about himself.

This is William Henry “Bucky” Walters, a man whose off the field accomplishments were equally as important as those on the field, a debatable Hall of Fame candidate but definitely an unfairly forgotten player in drastic need of remembrance.

Click here to learn about THT's download subscriptions.]]> Eric Seidman 2008-05-20T05:03:15+00:00 Why Cy? http://www.hardballtimes.com/main/article/why-cy/ http://www.hardballtimes.com/main/article/why-cy/#When:04:04:15 Daniel Cabrera that mentioned how, on some nights, he managed to “look like Cy Young.” Seeing these assessments so frequently made me wonder: What does it mean to have Cy Young potential? Or, for that matter, to look like Cy Young?

Does it mean the pitcher has the potential to someday hold the career record for wins? The potential to hold the career record for losses? The potential to wear those old Cleveland Spiders uniforms? We so easily forget that, unlike the Most Valuable Player award, this seasonal pitching honor bears the name of an actual player. His name is generally associated with amazing pitching and, when my eventual grandchildren have their eventual grandchildren, Cy Young will still be remembered while so many others are forgotten.

Naming an award after an actual player indicates that he not only represents, better than anyone else, what the award reflects, but also that nobody else even comes to mind. Going off of that idea I decided to investigate the career and era of Cy Young to determine if he truly deserves to have a prestigious award named in his honor. Bill James, in The Neyer/James Guide to Pitchers and Bill Deane, in Total Baseball, have conducted studies similar to this and I highly suggest you get your hands on them. They are incredibly fascinating.

Who is Cy Young?

Right now, go find a baseball fan and ask him the above question. I guarantee that 100 percent of the time the first answer will involve his career-record 511 wins. Probe this fan further on subjects like the years in which Young played and the teams he played for and that the answers will be along the lines of... “Uh, the 1900s, for the, uh, the Philadelphia Athletics? Black Sox?”

Most of us know absolutely nothing about a man so often blindly anointed as the greatest pitcher of all time.

Cy Young played in the major leagues from 1890-1911 (22 seasons). From 1890-1898 he was a member of the Cleveland Spiders, before joining the St. Louis Perfectos for the 1899 and 1900 seasons. During those 11 years there was no American League. The National League was major league baseball. In 1901, when the American League formed, Young joined the Boston Americans. He was an “American” from 1901-1908. From 1909 until the halfway point of the 1911 season, he pitched for the Cleveland Naps, before finishing the 1911 season and his career as a Boston Rustler. Yes, he played for two different Boston and Cleveland teams.

Though his career ended in 1911, Cy Young still holds the records for career wins, career innings pitched, career games started and career complete games. Naming an award after a player essentially tells us that said player deserves to be forever commemorated for his accomplishments. Young’s award is given to the best/most effective pitcher of a given season, which suggests that Young was the best/most effective pitcher more seasons than anyone else in his career—but was he?

Cy Young Award history

First, we need to understand how the award came into existence.

In 1910, the Chalmers Automotive Group decided to award a free car to the batting champion in each league. On the final day of that season, Ty Cobb and Nap Lajoie were neck and neck for the batting title. Lajoie's Cleveland Indians were playing the St. Louis Browns and Jack O'Connor, the St. Louis manager, decided to play his infield back, which allowed Lajoie to get seven bunt singles and defeat Cobb for the title. Anger ensued, O'Connor was fired, newspapers dramatically spiraled in front of cameras, young children shouted "EXTRA! EXTRA! Read all about it!" and Chalmers changed his approach.

From 1911 until 1930 there were two different versions of the MVP award, though the one recognized today did not begin until 1931. In 1956, in deciding that pitchers should have their own award, Commissioner Ford Frick created the Cy Young Award. Begun a year after Cy Young’s death, the award was to celebrate the best/most effective pitcher in a given season. From 1956-1966 the award went to the best pitcher in all of baseball. In 1967 it began to be awarded to the best pitcher in each league.

We all know about Cy Young’s ridiculously high career numbers, but the award named after him refers to one season's pitching. The question: Doesn’t that mean Cy Young would have needed to consistently be the best season-by-season pitcher during his career?

Cy Criteria

Cy Young had a great career as a whole, but I wondered how he fared in individual seasons based on the stats that are commonly used by analysts and writers when discussing the merits of a pitcher in a given season.
  • No. 1 in career wins, but led his league only four times, and was out of the top five nine times

  • No. 1 in career innings, but led his league only twice, and was out of the top five eight times

  • No. 1 in career starts, but led his league just once, and was out of the top five 14 times

  • No. 1 in career complete games, but led his league just once, and was out of the top five eight times

  • Led the league in ERA twice, and was out of the top five 10 times

  • Led league in K/BB 11 times, and was five times out of the top five


Cy Young rarely led his league in anything other than his proportion of strikeouts to walks and yet the award for best overall seasonal pitcher bears his name? Hmm.

How many Cys for Cy?

Since the Cy Young Award did not start until 1956, and the MVP did not come into play until the final year of his career, there is no way to determine how many “best pitcher awards” Cy Young would have racked up. In the Neyer/James Guide to Pitchers, Bill James presented a formula that could be used to predict the Cy Young Award in a given season. The formula is designed to mirror the voting patterns since the award came into play by weighting the stats that seem to attract these voters. His formula looks like this:

Cy Young points = ((5*IP/9)-ER) + (K/12) + (6*W) – (2*L) + VB

The VB stands for Victory Bonus and awards an additional +12 to those on teams who win their division. James admitted, though, that while his formula is relevant for recent votes it might not have been applicable way back when. I agree because this does not take into account certain statistics that were more prominent in the early part of the 20th century. For instance, complete games were so prominent for the first half of the 20th century that it was considered “less manly” if you could not finish your own game. Wins were never at risk of any sort of drought, either, whereas today it is rare for someone to win 21-plus games.

With ideas like this in mind I came up with a slight derivative of James’ formula that will take into account these statistics relevant to the early years of baseball. I also factored in a type of K/BB ratio since players, despite occasionally recording high strikeout totals, would post high walks counts as well. For instance, between 1890 and 1892, Amos Rusie averaged 322 strikeouts and 273 walks per season. The 322 is very high but so is the 273. It would not seem fair to simply reward him for reaching that high a strikeout count if his BB count was just as high. My version of the Cy Young formula is below:

CY PTS = ((5*IP/9)-ER) + (K/12) + (4*W) – (2*L) – (GS-CG) – (BB/8)

I got rid of the Victory Bonus because, before divisional play, few teams would make the playoffs. Plugging the numbers into my formula, here are the results from 1890-1911, the duration of Cy Young’s career. Keep in mind that Young was in the NL from 1890-1900 and the AL from 1901-1911. 
NL (1890-1900)            NL (1900-1911)                 AL (1900-1911)
1890   Bill Hutchison     1901    Noodles Hahn           1901     Cy Young
1891   Bill Hutchison     1902    Vic Willis             1902     Cy Young
1892   Bill Hutchison     1903    Christy Mathewson      1903     Cy Young
1893   Amos Rusie         1904    Joe McGinnity          1904     Jack Chesbro
1894   Amos Rusie         1905    Christy Mathewson      1905     Rube Waddell
1895   Cy Young           1906    Mordecai Brown         1906     Al Orth
1896   Kid Nichols        1907    Christy Mathewson      1907     Ed Walsh
1897   Kid Nichols        1908    Christy Mathewson      1908     Ed Walsh
1898   Kid Nichols        1909    Mordecai Brown         1909     Frank Smith
1899   Vic Willis         1910    Christy Mathewson      1910     Walter Johnson
1900   Joe McGinnity      1911    Pete Alexander         1911     Ed Walsh
Cy Young, in this system, would have deserved to win four Cy Young Awards during his 22-year career. Christy Mathewson, in only eight years of that same span, would have deserved to win five.

If we extend this to the end of Mathewson’s career, we see that he would have won seven awards out of the 17 years he played, a much higher percentage than Cy’s. There were six other multiple award-winners during Cy Young’s career: Bill Hutchison (three), Ed Walsh (three), Kid Nichols (three), Amos Rusie (two), Joe McGinnity (two) and Mordecai Brown (2).

Further application

The above results stem from the duration of Cy’s career (1890-1911) but there were 44 additional seasons following his retirement that could have been used to properly name this award. Without getting into all of the winners from those 44 seasons, I have listed the significant ones below. Oh, and in 1914, a pitcher by the name of Bill James would have edged out both Pete Alexander and Christy Mathewson!
Player            Awards   Years
Walter Johnson    8        (1912-16, 1918, 1924)
Christy Mathewson 7        (1903, 1905, 1907-08, 1910, 1912-1913)
Lefty Grove       7        (1928-33, 1935)
Pete Alexander    6        (1911, 1915-17, 1920, 1927)
Cy Young          4        (1895, 1901-03)
Bob Feller        4        (1939-40, 1946-47)
Robin Roberts     4        (1950, 1952, 1954-55)
Dazzy Vance       4        (1924-25, 1928, 1930)
Bill Hutchison    3        (1890-92)
Kid Nichols       3        (1896-98)
Bucky Walters     3        (1939-40, 1944)
Carl Hubbell      3        (1933, 1936-37)
Ed Walsh          3        (1907-08, 1911)
As you can see, four pitchers would have won more awards than Cy prior to the award being named. Three other pitchers equaled Young’s dominance, and five came very close to equaling Young’s dominance. To rename the award, though, we need to factor in some stipulations.

1) You must have retired before the 1956 season
2) You must have pitched at least 12 seasons (otherwise, small sample sizes can mislead)
3) Nobody else in your league, during your career, can have come within two awards

The first stipulation helps us to rename the award in a realistic fashion. Even if Robin Roberts had won the award for seven straight years, he was still pitching as the award was named. It would not have been realistic to expect Ford Frick to name the award after a player in the middle of his career. The last stipulation ensures that nobody else came close to equaling your dominance. To determine who the award should have been named after, we have to divide the number of hypothetical awards by the total number of seasons.

That shows us which pitchers won the most in the least amount of time, meeting those requirements. Here are the results:
Name                Awards   Seasons   Award %
Christy Mathewson   7        17        0.412
Lefty Grove         7        17        0.412
Walter Johnson      8        21        0.381
Pete Alexander      6        20        0.3
Dazzy Vance         4        16        0.25
Bob Feller          4        18        0.222
Cy Young            4        22        0.182
Christy Mathewson and Lefty Grove were each the best pitcher seven times and each pitched for 17 seasons. Either would have been very well-suited to have the award named for him. Of course, though, you want a clear-cut answer. To get that, we need to look at how much they came ahead of the second place finisher. Since they pitched in different decades, it would not be fair to compare their total Cy points earned. Looking at how much they finished ahead of the runner-up shows us how dominant their seasons were relative to who else was in their league.

In Mathewson’s seven award seasons, he finished ahead of the runners-up by an average of 45.9 Cy pointss. In Grove’s seven award seasons, he finished ahead of the runners-up by an average of 46.2.

Oh, come on! At this point, after looking at stats for 11 1/2 consecutive hours, I am willing to concede that the pitcher who deserves to have the award in his honor should come from whichever era you consider the best.

The bottom line here, though, is that Cy Young is not in the discussion. In fact, he would be seventh among those who won four-plus during their careers.

To make the Hall of Fame, you need to be one of the most dominant players at your position throughout your career. To have an award in your name you need to demonstrate, much more often than anyone else, what the award represents. While Cy Young was dominant enough to be inducted into the Hall of Fame, 12 pitchers were more dominant, equally dominant or very close to equaling Cy’s dominance during their careers. On top of that, one pitcher, Mathewson, was much more dominant than Cy Young during the career of Cy Young!

There were 66 seasons of major league baseball before this award was named. Just as he did with the Roger Maris asterisk, Ford Frick missed the mark.

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