The “Save”

Among official baseball statistics there are a few pure ones, like batting average. Unlike rbi, batting average doesn’t depend on what the hitters ahead of you have done, nor, unlike runs scored, on what the hitters who follow do. It is also valid as a measure of worth: someone who hits .300 will be an asset to the team; someone who hits .225 will not. By contrast, a player can hit three home runs and still be valuable, or field at a .995 clip and still be a defensive liability. But among all the impure stats, one stands out because not only is it often invalid as a measure of worth, it alone affects how the game itself is played.

The “save,” first of all, didn’t exist until 1969. Baseball got along fine for all those years without it. It was introduced to acknowledge the increasing importance of the relief pitcher; but it, in turn, has itself increased that importance. Counting the number of saves has contributed to the mystique of “the closer.” As this mystique has grown, it has become legend that “the ninth inning belongs to the closer.” As a result, there are fewer complete games than in the old days. Once the starter reaches the ninth and a save situation develops, most managers will turn to their closer now, regardless of how well the starter performed in the eighth.

The next problem involves the definition of a “save.” If you enter the 9th with a three-run lead and finish the game with your team still ahead, you get a save, regardless of how well or poorly you pitched. If you give up three hits, two walks and two runs while recording only three outs, that would give you an ERA of 18.00 but you still get a save. Take another example: your team is leading by three runs in the 9th, there are two outs, there is a runner on first. You come in, throw one pitch, the batter drives it 400 feet to deep centerfield, where the ball is caught. You get a save, because the potential tying run was on deck when you entered the game. Or worse: the ball is not caught, but the runner is thrown out at home. You have thrown one pitch, given up a double and recorded a save.

On the other hand are the Mariano Riveras and Goose Gossages who enter the 9th with a one-run lead and strike out the side for their save. The wide disparity in the degree of difficulty for different save situations and the fact that a bad performance can reap the same statistical reward as the good performance are major flaws in the save category. Another obvious problem: you can only get a save when your team is ahead near game’s end. The closer for the New York Yankees has a major head start over the closer for the Washington Nationals (see, e.g., Rivera and Gossage, cited above, not to mention Sparky Lyle).

What bothers me most, however, is the way this statistic doesn’t just reflect the game, it affects the way the game is managed. To wit, Ron Gardenhire (and he’s just my local example) generally won’t put Joe Nathan in a game unless and until it’s a save situation. If the Twins are winning 5-2 at home with two out in the bottom of the 8th, Nathan will be warming in the bullpen, ready to come in. If a Twin then hits a home run, building the lead to 6-2, Gardy will sit Nathan down and bring in a lesser reliever. (Once two batters get on base, however, Nathan will be summoned.) The only magical difference in baseball terms between a three-run and a four-run lead is that one will produce the statistical oddity of a save, while the other will not, yet it has changed the manager’s choice of pitcher.

This is not to say that Rivera, Nathan and Jonathan Papelbon are not valuable to their respective teams. It is to say, though, that the difference between Rivera, who records his saves with cold-blooded efficiency, and Nathan, who produces heartburn as often as relief, is much greater than their number of saves will reflect. I am sure that the baseball stat-heads have come up with a closer efficiency rating that takes care of all the issues I have raised (just as SI informs me of a metric called Equivalent Baserunning Runs that measures baserunning value!). For starters, I would like to see a one-run save valued more highly than a cheap three-run save, with a two-run save in between. A closer is supposed to handle pressure, and there simply is much less pressure when you are ahead by three runs in the ninth. There also should be a penalty for allowing a run, let alone two runs, in a save situation – even to the extent of eliminating the save itself. Finally, the field should be leveled between the good and bad teams by ranking closers on their save percentage, not the save total.

Maybe the manager then would pay more attention to the quality of his closer’s performance and not be so automatic in how he deploys his forces. Even if it’s too late for that, at least the fans will be given an official statistic that, if not perfect, will be less impure.
August 2009