The “Quality Appearance”

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Baseball these days can seem overrun with statistics – Batting Average with Runners in Scoring Position and Two Outs, for example – yet records for pitchers all seem to me fundamentally flawed. Which is why I am proposing a new, more meaningful, one, which I will get to in a minute. First, however, a recap of some existing flaws.
For years, Won-Lost has been the gold standard for pitchers. The first problem, though, is that its validity is largely limited to starting pitchers, the only ones who routinely have some control over a game’s outcome. The emphasis, however, must be on “some.” We are all familiar with the “hard-luck loser,” who pitches eight innings, allows one measly run, yet suffers a 1-0 defeat. (Last night the Indians’ Josh Tomlin surrendered a first-pitch, first-inning opposite-field home run to the Twins’ Miguel Sano and suffered that fate.) The flip side is the lucky winner, who gives up five runs in five innings, yet records a win because his teammates have clobbered the opposing pitcher for more. Sometimes this averages out over the course of a season, but sometimes it doesn’t. Then there is the disparity among offenses. A pitcher for a hitting-starved team could give up three runs a game and finish with an 8-12 won-lost record; while his counterpart for a powerhouse could allow the same number of runs and wind up 12-8.
The next most recognized statistic is Earned Run Average, which would show the equivalence of the two pitchers in the above example. This statistic in theory should also work for relief pitchers as well as starters, and it has the advantage of not being dependent on the hitting success of the pitcher’s team. Its weakness, though, is its failure to account for situational pitching, which is crucial in evaluating a relief pitcher’s value. By “situation” I mean both the stage of the game – is the scored 7-2 in the eighth inning, or 3-2 in the ninth? – and the situation within the inning. A reliever who enters the game with two outs and the bases loaded and gives up a triple is a failure, yet his ERA will go down if he gets the next batter out. Conversely, the pitcher who let those three runners reach base while getting two outs will see his ERA soar, even though no one scored while he was pitching. The other problem with judging a reliever by his ERA is that one bad outing can skew it, because relievers pitch so few innings compared to starters. (Last night the Twins brought in Matt Belisle with one out, one on in the eighth inning of a 1-0 game despite an unheard-of ERA north of 11.00, precisely because that figure bore little connection to his perceived reliability.)
I have written elsewhere about the Save, the least useful number of all. 1) It only is relevant for the usually one pitcher per team who gets to pitch the ninth inning. 2) The number depends on his team’s success rate – only the winning team can record a save. 3) The criteria are too loose to be meaningful: a reliever can give up two runs in the only inning he pitches (an ERA rate of 18.00) and still get a save.
Because of the overemphasis on Saves, some baseball writers in 1986 came up with the Hold as a way of recognizing the effectiveness of middle relievers, who don’t get Save opportunities. Although routinely included in game box scores, the Hold is not an officially recognized statistic and there is some confusion as to what qualifies. The first prerequisite is the existence of a Save situation – so right there, it incorporates the weaknesses of that stat. The second requirement is that the reliever hand over pitching duties to the next reliever with his team still in the lead – which means, similar to the Save defect, that a reliever could load the bases while recording only one out and earn a Hold despite doing a lousy job.
So, what would be a more useful measure of a pitcher’s – specifically, a reliever’s – performance? Say ‘hello’ to the QA – the Quality Appearance. A reliever earns a QA by recording three or more outs without giving up a run, including the runners he inherits and the runners he puts on base. Alternatively, if he enters a game with two or more men on base, and he records two outs, ends an inning and no one scores. That, after all, is what really matters – keeping the other team from scoring. This statistic has the advantage of applying whether a team is ahead or behind. After all, when a team is behind 3-2 late in the game, it is crucial to their chances of winning that they not give up another run; and the pitcher who holds that margin is doing just as important a job as the pitcher who is credited with a Hold. Yes, there are some flaws: a pitcher could lose a QA by giving up a run in a second or third inning of work, although the rule could be refined to cover that, if desired. And what happens to runners that a pitcher puts on base before he is relieved will depend on the relievers who follow. Not every good relief effort will be recognized, but many more will, and more fairly than either the Save or the Hold currently does.

The Waste Pitch

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Twins pitchers are apparently taught, or instructed, to waste a pitch whenever they get an 0-2 count. The theory, I’m guessing, is to see if the hitter, suddenly wary of striking out looking, will expand the strike zone and wave at an unhittable pitch. The 0-2 pitches that Twins hurlers deliver, however, tend to be so low, wide or high that no one ever swings. At best, the pitcher loses some of his advantage. The worst happened the other night to Tyler Duffey, who came on to relieve with the score tied, the bases loaded and no outs. His first two pitches made the Rangers’ Elvis Andrus look silly. Instead of trying to finish him off, his “waste pitch” bounced in the dirt and the lead run scored. Compounding the problem, the other runners advanced to second and third, so the infield “had to” play in. The next batter, with one out now, hit what would have been a double-play grounder, but it squirted just past the third baseman, playing in. Result of the “waste pitch”: three runs for the Rangers.
Speaking of strategy, I would also question the decision to have the corner infielders play in in that situation. Sano, especially, has quick reflexes and a gun for an arm; from his normal position he could throw out a runner going home a large percentage of the time. What is the counter-percentage, the number of times he doesn’t get to a ball because he is repositioned closer to home?
There is one more baseball orthodoxy I would question: when the Twins are leading in the 9th by two or more runs and an opposing batter gets to first base, they don’t hold him on and cede a free trip to second base. “The run means nothing,” we are told. But the chance to get an out at second base does have meaning. These days there are statistics for everything; so maybe my assumption can be rebutted. I feel, however, that I have seen many more times where an infielder could get an out at second but not at first than occasions where the first baseman made a play only because he was playing off the bag.
5/6/17 PS: Conversely, today a Twins pitcher with two outs and no one on threw an 0-2 slider that caught too much of the plate and ended up in the leftfield stands. Before a third out could be recorded, the Red Sox had eight runs and the game was effectively over. The Twins pitcher, Nick Tepesch, was making his first appearance with the Twins, so perhaps he hadn’t gotten the memo.

Twins in ’17

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It is far better to enter the baseball season with no, or low, expectations than to have high expectations that are quickly dashed. SI was not alone in predicting that this year’s Twins would have the third-worst record in the AL and even the Minnesota writers were guarded, expressing doubts, especially, about the Twins’ pitching. So how much should we raise our hopes now that the Twins have swept the Royals in convincing fashion in the opening three-game series? Their starting pitching was good, their relief pitching excellent, defense flawless and late-inning clutch hitting impressive.
Granted, three games is a small sample and the season will be long, but there is room for optimism. For starters, much of athletic success depends upon confidence and the belief that you can and will win. When you start the season 0-9, as the Twins did last year, it is hard to get that losing mentality out of your minds. When losing is expected, it happens more often. By winning their first three games, the Twins have to be thinking, We can win, which in itself will breed success.
Now, as to the pitching. While there is no Clayton Kershaw on the staff, there are six pitchers who, to my mind, give the Twins a chance every day. Ervin Santana is a consummate professional who knows exactly what he’s doing. Hector Santiago gives us hits but limits damage and seems to win more than he should. Kyle Gibson can be very good or not, but when he’s good he’s a winner. It may take awhile to shake out the rest of the rotation, but Phil Hughes, Adelberto Mejia, Tyler Duffey and Jose Berrios is a sufficient field to work with.
No one can ever predict how relievers will fare in a given season: there are always surprise stars and proven closers who falter. Confidence and the ability to throw strikes are important, and in the first three games all the relievers except the retread Craig Breslow showed potential.
On offense, the best news is the re-emergence of Miguel Sano as a hitter to be feared. He was wondrous in 2015 then disappointed horribly in 2016 and Strib writers questioned his offseason preparation. This winter, apparently, he buckled down and he has the look of a mainstay cleanup hitter. Eddie Rosario and Max Kepler just have to show some progress from their first seasons to be more than acceptable as corner outfielders. The big surprises so far are new catcher Jason Castro and new shortstop Jorge Polanco. Castro, especially, was signed as a defensive upgrade but to date has been the star of the attack, walking six times and driving in go-ahead runs. Polanco is supposed to be a natural hitter, and if he slumps Eduardo Escobar can pick up any slack.
The two big question marks have, curiously, been batting 3rd and 4th in Paul Molitor’s lineup: Byron Buxton and Joe Mauer. Buxton is clearly not ready for Major League pitching, and one has to wonder (like Clark Griffith did) if he ever will be. He is extraordinary in centerfield, and putting him lower in the order may allow him to relax and find his stride. It’s exciting to see him run and I hope he will get over whatever hump is stopping him; but for now it is excruciating to see him always hitting with an 0-2 count and knowing that a swing and miss will follow. As for Mauer, how long will his reputation and huge salary protect him? He is no longer the hitter who can wait for the pitcher to throw two strikes before he starts to swing. Without power, without speed, and with defenses shifted to cover his inside-out stroke, there is so little margin for error. Will he comfortably slide down to the 6th hole, or 8th?
Anyway, these are the little dramas we will watch as they play out over the summer. It is the soap opera of personalities, not just the game itself, that makes baseball so intriguing. Who knows how the Vikings’ left guard is doing? And some games a receiver may hardly be thrown at. But we know, and can watch, every single baseball player and can judge him in isolation, live and die with every at bat.

Birds of Coachella Valley

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In 4-1/2 days of birding from Palm Springs to Brawley, the Norseman and I came across 100 (or so) species in terrain ranging from below sea level to 8,400 feet above, from arid desert to snow-covered mountaintop. But rather than the numbers, it was certain sightings that will linger in my memory, notable either for the unusual bird or the place we saw it. Herewith, in order of observation, are nine of my favorites:
Burrowing Owl. Any owl is a treat to behold, and the Burrowing Owl has to be one of the cutest. We were told to just turn down Kalin Road southwest of Niland and watch the side of the road. Nothing for awhile, then there one was, standing calmly on the roadside berm, looking straight ahead (watching us?). A little further on – now that we knew what to look for – we came across a pair. Finally, as predicted, a fourth owl sat atop an abandoned tire. Little sentinels, the color of the surrounding dirt, totally unperturbed.
Snow Goose. I had seen a handful of snow geese before, an even a small flock flying overhead at our Minnesota house, but nothing prepared me for the hundreds, thousands?, that flocked in the fields, in the ponds and that wheeled en masse against a dark sky. The stark contrast between white and black was stunning – and matched by the also numerous White Pelicans – but it was the impression of the multitude against the landscape that, no matter how many places we saw it, took my breath away.
Black-tailed Gnatcatcher. After a day looking at big birds on and around the Salton Sea, it was refreshing to stop at a brush-lined canal and watch little land birds flitting. It became exciting when a male and female pair of gnatcatchers appeared and we saw the black cap, distinguishing it from the more familiar Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher.
Black-throated Sparrow. On a late-afternoon stroll through Anza-Borrego Desert State Park we were getting more exercise than birdlife when a chipping sound approached through the chaparral and a pair of sparrows came darting through the cactus-y scrub. Nothing is more exciting when encountering a sparrow than seeing a bold field mark, and this sparrow’s black throat was not only handsome but an undeniable mark of identification.
Sage Thrasher. Joshua Tree National Park was another site where natural beauty, not birds, was the object, but we pulled off the road at one “wash” to see what the desert might hold. As we chased a pair of Phainopeplas, wonderful in their own right, a small bird scurried along the desert floor, moving from one protective clump to another. It was its relative anonymity that marked it a Sage Thrasher, and we felt fortunate to have stumbled upon it in its predicted habitat.
Pinyon Jay. Go outside the park then back in to Black Rock to see a Pinyon Jay, the ranger at Cottonwood told us; so we headed there as the sun was setting on our day. We wandered the campsite, listening to House Finches and Cactus Wrens, then heard a jay-like call across a field, coming closer. Flashes of blue moved from distant tree to tree until we called one in to fly right over us. A lifer, for my last bird of the day.
Scott’s Oriole. From Palm Desert we climbed Highway 74 up into Santa Rosa and San Jacinto Mountains National Monument. With my poor Volt tiring from the grade and altitude, we pulled over onto the first side road we came to, Carrizo Road. A half-dozen Scrub Jays and a few White-Crowned Sparrows caught our attention amid a small grouping of weekend houses before a liquid song caught my attention. Soon, popping out of a bush, I spied an oriole with a beautiful lemon hue and deep black bib. We watched it move around our area for maybe ten minutes before it took off. “Uncommon on open arid hillsides where agaves and yuccas mix with oak or pine woodlands,” says Sibley – just where we found it.
Rock Wren. Another bird that knew its place (Sibley: “Uncommon on talus slopes and other expanses of jumbled rocks”), we watched this otherwise unremarkable bird climbing up a rock face on Henderson Trail off the Visitor Center in the above park. He was about the only bird we saw on the trail and he seemed to own it, moving around, singing loudly.
Mountain Chickadee. This was my favorite sighting of the trip, first because it came in the snowy emptiness of Mount San Jacinto State Park atop the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway, where we felt lucky to find any bird at all. Then because it was a chickadee, a friendly familiar of bird feeders all my life, but with a difference: a white “eyebrow” that made it resemble a European tit. (I also thought I saw a thin white line on its crown, although the guidebooks don’t show that.) It quickly flew off, way off, not to be seen or heard again; and I thought how fortunate we were to be in that spot at that moment, which is always one of the thrills of birding.

Super Bowl 2017

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Woody Hayes famously disparaged the forward pass because “three things can happen, and two of them are bad” – i.e., incompletion or interception. After the Atlanta Falcons’ stunning collapse before the New England Patriots, their coach Dan Quinn might want to add three more reasons not to pass: 1) a sack and 2) a holding penalty back-to-back knocked the Falcons out of field goal range with five minutes to play, holding an 8-point lead that would have been insurmountable had they run two plays for no yardage and then converted a 36-yard field goal. On their prior possession, 3) a strip sack on a second-and-1 play gave the Pats the ball and good field position to reduce their 16-point deficit to 8.
The strip sack not only led to a Patriots touchdown, it inexorably signaled a total shift in game momentum. New England had indeed started a comeback of sorts by holding Atlanta to three-and-out on their initial second-half possession; and after Atlanta scored its fourth, and last, touchdown the Patriots answered. But when their PAT attempt bounced the wrong way off the goal post, you still had the feeling that this was not New England’s day. Their next drive produced only a field goal, leaving the deficit at 16, with the fourth quarter melting away. The strip sack changed all that; and for anyone who thinks “momentum” is little more than a sportswriter’s fiction, this Super Bowl’s second half should convince otherwise.
It is easy to second-guess the Falcons’ play-calling: dialing up a long pass when a routine run would have netted a first down exposed quarterback Matt Ryan to the Patriot rush that produced the strip sack; and once the Falcons advanced to the New England 22 surely a conservative approach that ensured a field goal was called for, especially as Atlanta’s passing attack was sputtering and it took a sensational catch by Julio Jones to get there. The irony is that play-calling was the responsibility of Kyle Shanahan, the lauded offensive coordinator who was on the verge of moving to San Francisco as head coach. Not a good exit.
Most, if not all, of the credit for New England’s remarkable comeback is going to Tom Brady, hailed as the greatest quarterback, and maybe football player, of all time (the “GOAT”). There is no way to measure the psychological impact of his leadership, but I would point out that his physical performance was well short of impeccable. In the first half he threw an interception that was returned 82 yards for a seemingly crushing touchdown. Several long passes missed open receivers, and most of his completions were short- or mid-range. At least two of his passes on crucial fourth-quarter drives could have been intercepted, including a fade route in the end zone and the pass over the middle that Julian Edelman made the miracle catch on, after it bounced off defenders’ hands and legs.
At the same time, he received remarkable contributions from numerous teammates. Unheralded running back James White not only scored 20 points (a record) but was almost never brought down by the first defender he encountered. Brady’s offensive line firmed up in the second half – in contrast to Ryan’s – giving him time when one sack would’ve ended the comeback. His receivers, shaky in the first half, caught everything in the second. And the biggest plays, as mentioned above, came from the defense, stripping and sacking Ryan. Without Dont’a Hightower, et al., Brady wouldn’t have had the ball.
Last, but not least, is Lady Luck. The Falcons never saw the ball in overtime because the coin toss came up ‘heads,’ and the Patriots, for two years, have never called anything but.

Minnesota Sports

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Notwithstanding the football Gophers’ upset win over Washington State in the relatively meaningless Holiday Bowl, this has been a dreadful year for a Minnesota sports fan. I don’t know why, or if this is at all peculiar to Minnesota, but pessimism has been my normal state since I moved there, and it has carried over to my non-resident fandom. Maybe it’s because the Vikings never won the Super Bowl, because Gary Anderson missed the kick, because Brett Favre’s pass was intercepted, because the Twins always fall to the Yankees, because the Gophers can’t compete with the Ohio States of the Big Ten or because the Timberwolves are the Timberwolves, I don’t know. Every community has its share of heartbreaks – think of Buffalo’s four Super Bowl losses, the Cubs’ hundred years without a championship, or Cleveland’s general misery before 2016 – and for every winner there are dozens of losers; so my view may be more the norm than I admit. But the fact remains that I expect every comeback to fall short and every draft choice to be a disappointment.
The Twins, as noted previously, set a team record for futility this summer. The only cause of optimism is the fact they have a new General Manager, although that fix usually takes several years to produce results. Their young superstars-to-be, Miguel Sano and Byron Buxton, had better start living up to their hype or the future will be bleak. The Vikings started the fall miraculously, going 5-0 with, first, a backup quarterback then a dominant defense. They gave away a game to the Lions and, seemingly, their confidence and their season unraveled from there, at first slowly and now precipitously. The T-Wolves excited their fan base with the prospect of a new, proven coach guiding three 21-year-old athletic phenoms. Things might be rough at first, but surely this bunch would start to deliver on its promise. Instead, they have held big leads in almost every game only to fall short at the end; and as we know, it is only the last five minutes of an NBA game that really matters. I am less invested in the U of M’s football team, but they, too, were a tease: holding second-half leads over the likes of Penn State, Iowa and Wisconsin and finishing with a respectable 9-4 record, but without a “signature” win. There is an NHL team currently on a winning streak, but I can’t follow every sport and, except for three years reporting at Harvard, hockey has never interested me.
Perhaps I should file for divorce from Minnesota, now that I no longer live there. If Santa Barbara had a team, maybe I would, but I doubt I will ever identify with Los Angeles – the New York City of the West Coast. The Minnesota scene is still manageable, and I enjoy the StarTribune sports section each morning, so I expect I will stick. I just wish there were more fellow fans out here to commiserate with.

Cubs 8 – Indians 7

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The two most exciting words in sports are “Game Seven,” and last night’s World Series win by the Chicago Cubs lived up to that reputation and all the hype surrounding the Cubbies’ first championship in 108 years. But in terms of baseball esthetics, it wasn’t a “great” game. It was marred by sloppy defense, bad umpiring, questionable managing and tired pitching. The game also lacked drama for its entire midsection, as Chicago posted leads of 5-1 and 6-2 that seemed insurmountable. And ultimately, you’d like a Game 7 to come down to a face-off between one team’s best pitcher and the other’s best clutch hitter (I still think of 1962 when the Giants’ last two hitters against the Yankees were Willie Mays – hit – and Willie McCovey – line drive to second). Last night, the little-known and seldom-used Mike Montgomery was pitching to the 25th man on the Cleveland roster, Michael Martinez, who hit a dribbler to third. Adding to the anticlimax, Rajai Davis was trying to steal second on the pitch which, if Martinez had not swung, would have either produced a more dramatic ending or given the Indians a runner in scoring position. As it was, the only drama came from Kris Bryant’s slipping on the wet field as he threw to first, an appropriate p.s. to the sloppy play.
By sloppy play I’d point first to Javier Baez’s two errors at second for the Cubs and Davis’s allowing two Cub runs by failing to get set and make good throws on two fly balls to center. Addison Russell flubbed a ball at short and two Indians scored on a wild pitch that bounced off the catcher’s mask, one batter after they had advanced on the catcher’s throwing error.
The bad umpiring was epitomized by the out call at second when Baez obviously failed to catch the ball. This was reversed by instant replay (which saves us from the famous World Series gaffes of yesteryear but breaks the natural rhythm of the game. It’s also a bit jarring to see umpire John Hirshbeck raise his right arm so authoritatively after receiving word from New York that he blew the call), but there was nothing to do about the strike-three and ball-four calls that Sam Holbrook got wrong behind the plate. Both teams benefitted from the missed calls – which were not even borderline pitches, according to the FoxTrax box – although Bryant’s walk on a great 3-2 pitch by Andrew Miller in the 5th led directly to a run when he scored on Anthony Rizzo’s two-out single that followed.
Joe Maddon and Terry Francona had been hailed as co-geniuses through six games because of their adroit lineup changes and unorthodox use of their pitchers, but neither came out unscathed from Game 7. Maddon’s decision to remove starter Kyle Hendricks in the 5th was roundly second-guessed by every commentator – both at the time because he had been so effective and his only apparent sin was giving up his first walk of the night, and afterward because of the comparative ineffectiveness of everyone that followed. The second consensus flaw in Maddon’s strategy was his overuse of closer Aroldis Chapman, who did not need to have been used at all in Game 6 and because of overuse in Games 5, 6 and 7 was nowhere as overpowering as usual, giving up a booming double to Brandon Guyer and the game-tying home run to Davis. He brought in Jon Lester in mid-inning, despite his promise not to, and two runs resulted. The only Cubs pitcher not charged with a run was the aforesaid Montgomery, who recorded the first save of his career with two pitches to the aforesaid Martinez.
Francona fared no better. Undoubtedly because of prior usage, three of his four aces gave up multiple runs. I was sure before the game that Corey Kluber would not be asked to pitch beyond the 4th, regardless of his success, because he had pitched so much already – and the Cubs had seen him so much. Despite a relative lack of success – having given up three runs and struck out nobody, as opposed to eight strikeouts in three innings in his first Series start – Francona let Kluber start the 5th and the result was a homer by Baez, otherwise the worst Chicago hitter in the Series. The next home run was even more unexpected, coming off the bat of 39-year-old David Ross, in the game merely to catch Lester, and it came off Andrew Miller, also worn down, or exposed, by heavy use. It’s hard to second-guess Francona’s use of Bryan Shaw, who gave up the two 10th-inning runs, although the 17-minute rain delay in between his innings could have disrupted him and prompted a manager to bring in a fresh arm – if he had someone as good. Where Francona’s strategy more clearly backfired was his decision to give Anthony Rizzo an intentional walk: Rizzo ultimately scored the winning run.
So, if you compare 2016 with 1960, where the game goes back-and-forth and ends with a home run; or 1991, where Jack Morris wins a 1-0 game in ten innings (and pitches 23 innings with three runs allowed overall), this is not one of the all-time great Game Sevens. Still, it was pretty good and, when Rajai Davis took Chapman deep in the 8th to tie a seemingly lost game, it had all the excitement you could want.

The Vikings 2016

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Since the Vikings games are so rarely broadcast on the West Coast, I watched with particular interest (via DVR) their surprising 17-14 win over the Packers in their home opener. I say “surprising” because I am still enough of a Minnesotan that I expect the worst from any tense situation, and having the ball in Aaron Rodgers’s hands with time left and only a 3-point lead is tense.
My first takeaway is how impressed I was with Sam Bradford. Forget that he had only been on the team two weeks and that, with or without Adrian Peterson, he had no running game to use. He made passes that I haven’t seen a Viking quarterback make in years. Not the dinks of Daunte Culpepper, not the “game management” of Teddy Bridgewater, these were legitimate 20-yard throws into the smallest of windows. On both his touchdown passes – first to Kyle Rudolph, then to Stefon Diggs – the receivers were covered but his throws were perfect.
My second reaction, however, was “more of the same”: namely, the inferiority of the offensive line. Again, I don’t know how many years it has been since I’ve seen a Viking quarterback able to stand in the pocket and pick out a receiver without fearing for his life, the way Tom Brady and Peyton Manning routinely do. This may be why the Viking offense has relied so heavily on check-down passes. Bradford, as I saw it, never had the luxury of looking for a secondary receiver and more often than not had a Packer in his face as he threw. The TV announcer singled out Brandon Fusco as being particulary unable to slow down his man, and replays show Matt Kalil flailing as his rusher raced by him. The two off-season additions to the line were considered “average” in assessments I had read, and there doesn’t seem to have been any upgrade from the draft. It’s hard to see how the Vikings will be able to “improve” their offensive line as the season progresses, which will make it a challenge for Bradford to remain healthy (he did suffer one injury already, to his non-throwing hand) and as charged up as he must have been for his debut.
Third, the Viking secondary must be a strength, if not the main strength of this squad. Just the fact they have held two NFL opponents to 16 and 14 points is remarkable. More than that, you couldn’t help notice how much trouble Rodgers had in finding someone to throw to. Several times he counted to five and just threw the ball out of bounds. When he was sacked – and it happened four times – he always had time to throw first but couldn’t pull the trigger. The Packers’ main offensive weapon was the defensive interference penalty – two by the oldest Viking defender, three by the youngest. You have to think that coaching, practice and experience can eliminate much of this problem. Trae Waynes, who isn’t even a regular starter, was always right with his man; he just made unnecessary grabs at the receiver’s jersey. And Green Bay’s last touchdown came on a long scramble by Rodgers – when he couldn’t find anyone to throw to.
In sum, there is considerable hope for the season. The Vikings have a major weakness – bad offensive line and weak running attack – but there don’t seem to be any world-beaters in the (injury-prone) NFL this year. Their defense should keep them in most games, and if Bradford stays healthy they have a quarterback who can make deep throws and good decisions. Diggs, Rudolph and Adam Thielen provide an above-average receiving corps, with competent backups. Cordarelle Patterson and Marcus Sherels are good kickoff and punt returners, and Blair Walsh better be good. I’m sorry I won’t get to see more of their games.

Molitor’s Choice

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The Twins blogosphere is critical of owner Jim Pohlad’s announced intention to retain Paul Molitor as next year’s manager, regardless of the wishes of the next general manager, for whom Pohlad is currently searching. Any potential general manager worth his salt, the thinking goes, will want to install his own field manager, as that is the decision that will bear most directly on his own success or failure. The obvious answer, to my mind, is that owners change their “votes of confidence” with regularity and impunity, and there’s little reason to believe Jim Pohlad will provide an exception to this practice. There’s more reason to believe that Pohlad feels he must make this statement in order for Molitor to retain credibility with his players for the rest of this season, until a new GM is hired. Coaches and managers are notorious for resigning when they are not given contract extensions beyond one year for just this reason. Why would a player with today’s pampered ego and a guaranteed five-year contract pay attention to a manager in his lame-duck season?
The bigger question, which so far as I know has gone unanswered, is, why would Molitor want to come back and manage these Twins another year? For three weeks or so, they had one of the better records in the Majors and fielded a starting lineup (when Miguel Sano wasn’t playing) with no one hitting under .255. Max Kepler and Jorge Polanco looked like legitimate Major Leaguers in their first half-seasons, Brian Dozier had regained his All-Star form and Ervin Santana pitched like the number one starter he was signed to be. There appeared to be hope for 2017. Then another collapse came. Kansas City and Detroit swept the Twins, easily, and the Blue Jays won tonight, 15-8. The Twins have matched their low point below .500 for the season.
What does Molitor see when he looks ahead? For too many years, the Twins have projected a rebound year in 2017 based on the potential of Sano and Byron Buxton. Sano, however, is half the player this year that he was as a rookie. Buxton has failed to hit Major League pitching despite being handed the centerfield job three times already and is scuffling in the minors. Both, too, are injury-prone. Very few, anymore, are dreaming that Sano and Buxton will take the Twins anywhere. Mauer can only get worse, Plouffe will never be consistent, Grossman will likely remain a journeyman, catching is a future weak spot and there’s no long-term substitute for Buxton in center. But this shaky defensive unit looks good compared to the Twins pitching, and that’s the ultimate key. The two brightest spots for the future – Jose Berrios and Tyler Duffey – were just exiled to AAA out of management’s frustration that they don’t seem to learn anything. Kyle Gibson, the only proven homegrown talent, has a horrific game for every good one. Twins fans were delighted to get rid of Ricky Nolasco, but Hector Santiago, whom they got in exchange, has so far been worse.
It’s one thing to coach a losing team if they respond to instruction, you see them improving, and the future looks promising. None of these, however, apply to the current roster of Twins. If I were Paul Molitor, I would announce I’m resigning at season’s end, before anyone can fire me.

Golf Rule

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In all the controversy over the slight rotation of Dustin Johnson’s ball during the last round of this year’s U.S. Open, the complaints have been about how the USGA officials handled the possible rule infraction, not whether the rule itself was stupid. It seemed rather clear to me that when the ball, sitting on the fifth green, moved one dimple after he grounded his putter beside it, his action was the proximate cause and, under the applicable rule, he had to take a penalty stroke. The official on the spot was wrong to tell him otherwise, although I don’t blame him for not thinking quickly enough in the pressure of that situation. Once the officials decided a video review was necessary, they clearly had to tell the player and ask him if he could think of any reason the ball had moved. Allowing for all due process, it’s easy to see that it would take another couple of holes to reach a determination, which means Johnson – and all the field still on the course – should have been advised of the penalty stroke no later than Johnson’s 14th hole. That’s still a problem, but not as bad as waiting for the round’s conclusion, as occurred.

But no one is asking, why is there such a rule in the first place? Why penalize a player for conduct that in no way helps him? The ball was further from the cup after it moved – how is that a benefit? If there is no advantage gained, why penalize? More appropriately, the rule could be written that if any act of the player not otherwise addressed in the rules has the result of advancing the ball, the player shall be penalized a stroke.

The silly strictness of golf rules contributes to the elite nature of the game. The beginner, even the average player (like myself), doesn’t know all the rules and is made to feel like he’s not quite in the club. Of course, the average player (like myself) willfully ignores even some of the rules he does know. If your club accidentally touches the ball before you strike it, that’s a penalty. If your club accidentally touches the sand before your bunker shot, that’s a penalty. Neither gives you an unfair advantage over your opponent or the course. There are even more arcane penalties, such as two strokes if your shot bounces back and hits you, even though this could never be an intentional result of cheating, nor is it appropriate compensation for any yardage saved by your body being in the way.

Golf is tough enough as it is. Why have rules that serve no purpose but make it harder?