Rivalries Part 3: Pujols vs. Closers

There are, best I can tell, three kinds of manager’s moves that don’t work.

The first kind – a Type A manager failure – I would describe as: “A move that should work, but doesn’t.” These would loosely include any move that you would agree with beforehand (depending on you, of course).

A manager brings in his star closer in the ninth, and he blows the lead – that would qualify. A manager brilliantly sets up his game management so he has the perfect lefty pinch-hitter face a righty reliever with the game on the line, and he strikes out. A manager puts in a defensive replacement in the late innings, the ball gets hit to him at precisely the big moment, and he boots it.

The inverse is true also – a manager sticks with his best player in the big moment, and he fails, that’s a Type A move too. And so on.

The maddest you will ever see a manager is when some goofball reporter second guesses what the manager considers a Type A move. It was, I believe (this was before my KC time), a Type A second guess that prompted Hal McRae to pull off on his phone-throwing crazy man act (If I remember correctly, someone asked McRae why he didn’t pinch hit for George Brett -- * Reader corrects; he says the question was why McRae didn't use Brett as a pinch-hitter, which makes this more of a Type B move).

The second kind – a Type B manager failure – would be a move that you may not agree with but you can at least see the logic. Score tied in the seventh inning, leadoff batter gets on, and the manager has one of his better hitters bunt. Now, you may not agree with it, but you can understand why a manager does it.

Most unsuccessful moves, I would say, qualify as Type B. In my experiences, fans generally disagree with moves that don’t work. Funny how that happens.

Usually it goes like this: A manager will do something that the fan vaguely disagrees with – he pulls a pitcher who was throwing pretty well, he doesn’t pull a pitcher that was throwing pretty well, he brings in the infield in the seventh inning, he doesn’t bring in the infield in the seventh inning, he shakes up a lineup, he doesn’t shake up a lineup, he punch runs for a slow runner who represents the winning run, he doesn’t bring in a pinch runner, and so on – and then when it backfires, the fan screams wildly about the manager has to be a complete idiot. And more, the fan knew it even BEFORE the move didn’t work. It's not exactly 20-20 hindsight where fans complain about something only after it happens. Fans do that, but nobody smart enough to read this blog.

No I’m talking more about 30-30 hindsight, where the fan probably did disagree with the move in some sort of passive way, but that anger turns white hot after the move fails.

A Type C move is a completely boneheaded move that makes no sense either before or afterward. There are really very few of these. They happen, though. It’s hard to explain exactly what Grady Little was thinking when he left Pedro Martinez in the game. I’m not sure you can even see the logic. Sometimes managers will bunt in the first inning when they have their No. 5 pitcher on the mound. Occasionally, a manager will bat Doug Mientkiewicz in the cleanup spot night after night. And sometimes there will be a mistake – batting out of order, not getting a pitcher warming up in time, etc. The only way to explain these is to remember that managers are generally human, and it’s a long season.

Some managers after making a big mistake will just admit, “Hey, I made a mistake there.” Some are proud men, though, and they virulently try to defend the undefendable. Bob Boone was like that. Bob Boone could have given you 25 reasons why Custer's strategy was sound.

Well, now we need to add a Type D manager’s move to the list. Because Tuesday night, All Star Game, ninth inning, Tony La Russa made a move (or didn’t make a move) so staggeringly bad, so ludicrously stupid, so utterly self defeating that it might actually, in the long run, get him fired or force him to resign his real job. It also may not blow up at all, but it’s worth mentioning that only La Russa could screw up an All-Star Game so monumentally that he comes out with a loss and a pissed-off superstar.

You already know the particulars, but we’ll go over them one more time. The National League trailed by three runs going into the ninth inning, and they were facing J.J. Putz, who has Miss Jackson stuff. With two outs, Dmitri Young “singled” on a ground ball that all-star second baseman Brian Roberts could not come up with. Next batter, Alfonso Soriano, smacked an opposite field two-run homer. So the tying run came to the plate – and Milwaukee’s J.J. Hardy walked. Derrek Lee followed – now facing K-Rod – and he walked too.

Up came Orlando Hudson.

As you know, La Russa had one batter left on the bench. That was his own guy, Albert Pujols, the best player of the decade not named Bonds, one of the best young players in baseball history, the star of stars. You have to pinch hit him here. You just have to. Yes, it would have taken a little creative defensive shuffling if the game went into extra innings. But the point is to win the game (“This time it counts!”), and there simply does not seem a reasonable explanation for letting Hudson hit rather than Pujols. But Hudson stayed in the game. He walked.

So now the bases were loaded. And up stepped Aaron Rowand. Now, as obvious as it was to have Pujols pinch hit for Hudson, you can double the obviousness now. Triple it. Quadruple it. There’s not a soul alive, and we're including Aaron Rowand's relatives here, who would let Aaron Rowand bat here. A base hit wins the game. We’re not dealing with an extra inning scenario anymore (barring a walk, of course, in which case you simply reshuffle the outfield). There are at least two dozen reasons why you pinch hit Pujols here, not the least of which is this: Albert Pujols is quite possibly the player of his generation, and this is supposed to be a game for the fans. How do you leave the player of a generation ON THE STINKING BENCH WITH THE ALL-STAR GAME THE LINE?

La Russa, of course, let Rowand hit and he flied out.

This might just be a typical Type C bizarre manager’s move except for one thing (and the reason we need to give it a whole new classification): Pujols PLAYS for La Russa. Through the years, we’ve seen All-Star managers (including La Russa) do all sorts of quirky things to indulge their own players. They give their own players a couple of extra innings in the field. They give their own pitchers an inning when another pitcher might be having a better year. Sure, they will take a few hits for it in the papers for it, but who cares? A manager's job is to win games for his own team and get the most out of your players, and if doing that happens to tick off a few out-of-town writers and fans at the All-Star Game, so be it.

I have never seen an All-Star Manager purposely screw his own player before. This is a new one on me. I have tried to think of a single good reason why La Russa would have not played Albert Pujols in the All-Star Game – and not hit him in the biggest moment. I thought: Maybe he was trying to send a message to his biggest star (the message apparently being: “I hate you.”). Maybe he is hoping the Cardinals sign Aaron Rowand in the off-season, and this was some sort of recruiting tool (sort of the way some colleges will make a fake personalized highlight tape for high school recruits). Maybe with the Cardinals in danger of missing the postseason, he really didn’t care about World Series home field advantage.

Also maybe he’s lost his mind. It’s no secret that I don’t like La Russa – I think he’s generally pompous and he acts on occasion like he’s bigger than the game. Both of these lovely traits were in perfect display when LaRussa commented to the St. Louis Post Dispatch after being told that Pujols wasn’t happy about being the only guy not to play: “Let me ask you this. If we go to extra innings, who's going to be our player to move around and play? Can Dmitri [Young] move around and play? Or is Albert going to do that? Who's the most versatile guy not playing? It's Albert. It isn't even that tough. He'll figure it out sooner or later."

Seriously, if you wanted to make a more pompous statement than that, could you? I especially love the, “He’ll figure it out sooner or later,” part. That should make Albert feel real good. Also, you have to admire the drive-by swipe at Dmitri Young – it's sort of an afterthought slap but still worth noting.

Plus this reasoning is actually worse than any of my imagined reasons – he’s really worried about the game going into extra innings and someone getting hurt? This is how he’s managing in an All-Star Game? He’s going to keep the best hitter in baseball on the bench in the ninth inning of an All-Star Game just in case J.J. Hardy tweaks an ankle in the 13th inning? Come on.

Anyway, back to the “maybe he’s lost his mind” part – it was pointed out to me in a powerful anonymous email that La Russa has pretty much snapped. The email (which is good enough that I will quote some of it verbatim here) points out what has happened to him in the last year:

1. His team died at the All-Star Break last year and almost didn’t make the playoffs.
2. He entered the playoffs in a very public feud with one of his best players (Scott Rolen).
3. He has taken shots at numerous former players (Renteria, Drew, Kerry Robinson, etc).
4. He was arrested for drunk driving.
5. He has melted down and feuded with the media over bizarre things.
6. His team is five games under .500.
7. He managed in an All-Star Game setting to start a feud with Albert Pujols.

The email's conclusion: "I'm telling you, the man has LOST it. He's done."

Of course, it should be noted that in between all of that La Russa's team also won a World Series. It’s a good thing too. If the Cardinals had blown that lead last year and missed the playoffs (and boy they came close), he might be fired by now. Even as it is, La Russa might want to clear the air on this Albert Pujols mess or there might not be any nights in August this time around.

(Postscript: I didn’t get this up yesterday, and since then it appears that La Russa has had some second thoughts about not giving the fans that Pujols at-bat in the ninth inning. “Looking back,” he told Rick Hummel, “I should have gone for entertainment.” Really? You think so?)

* * *

Matchup No. 3: Albert Pujols vs. The Closers
How they’ve done: Pujols vs. Trevor Hoffman: 0 for 4, 1 strikeout.
Pujols vs. Billy Wagner: 6 for 21, 0 homers, 0 RBIs, 4 strikeouts.
Pujols vs. Brad Lidge: 3 for 14, 1 double, 2 walks, 3 strikeouts, 0 homers (regular season)
Pujols vs. Mariano Rivera: 0 for 1
Pujols vs. John Smoltz (as closer): 2 for 6, 1 home run.
Pujols vs. Jose Mesa: 7 for 13, 2 doubles, 2 homers, 1 strikeout.
Pujols vs. Armando Benitez: 1 for 6, 1 strikeout.

Thoughts: Do you ever wonder what would have happened to Trevor Hoffman had he come up at a different time? You probably don’t. I’m reminded of the semi-famous intro to the Elias Baseball Analyst, which came out in 1985 as a bizarre and rather pathetic attempt to wipe out Bill James’ Abstracts: “You will find in this book no arcane formulas with strange-sounding acronymic names. You will not find what somebody thinks George Brett would have hit in 1914. And if you want to know the product of Brett’s hits plus walks minus caught stealing, multiplied by his total bases times fifty-five-hundredths of his stolen bases, all of that divided by the total number of at-bats plus walks, you must look elsewhere.”

As the young Alvy Singer said in Annie Hall: “What an asshole.”

In case you are wondering (I was) Brett scored an 1100.749 EBA in his great 1980 season.

Anyway, Trevor Hoffman is now the all-time saves leader, and he’s still pitching at an All-Star level, so he may retire with 100 more saves than anyone else. He has certainly clinched a spot in the Hall of Fame though he hasn’t even pitched 1,000 innings. He’s one of the all-time San Diego athletes though he has a losing record in his career (51-58). All of these things are pretty easily understood in this era. Hoffman was, in the words of Buck O’Neil, right on time. He has the perfect makeup, competitiveness and arm rejuvenation to be a modern-day closer.

But what if he had come up in 1955? Remember, Hoffman was drafted as a shortstop just like his brother Glenn. And like his brother Glenn (only moreso), he couldn’t hit. Trevor Hoffman hit .249 in Rookie League ball, and then he went to Charleston, WV and hit .212. So, it’s very likely that had he come up in another time, he simply would have been sent home (“This is the hardest thing a manager has to do”).

But the Reds (who drafted Hoffman) realized he had a good arm, so they made him a pitcher. That actually could have happened 50 years ago too – remember Stan Musial started his pro career as a pitcher, and Warren Spahn started as a hitter. But here’s the difference: The Reds immediately made Hoffman a closer. He had a mid-90s fastball then and a curveball (I guess), but that was it, so they had him close games in Cedar Rapids in 1991, and he blew people away. They moved him up to Class AA Chattanooga, and he continued to blow people away.

Now the Reds wondered what they heck they had – they tried him briefly as a starter in 1992, but only briefly. Then, Florida took him in the expansion draft, traded him six month later to San Diego in the Gary Sheffield deal, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Well, none of that likely would have happened 50 years ago. For one thing, there were no Florida Marlins or San Diego Padres. But more to the point, there were no closers then, and it’s unlikely that Hoffman could have made it as a starter with only his fastball and curveball (he also had a torn rotator cuff which would have ended his career). He did not really learn his devastating palm-ball, change-up until he was in the big leagues (the story goes he learned it from Donnie Elliott, who went 0-1 in his brief major league career).

Also there was no such thing as the save then, so even if someone would have had the prescience to make him a Hoyt Wilhelm type reliever, there’s no telling how he would have done having to pitch two or three innings.

I would say Hoffman, perhaps more than any other Hall of Famer/future Hall of Famer, is a modern creation. That doesn't detract from his greatness. It's just that when we talking about timeless players -- that's not Trevor Hoffman.

* * *

I’ve run these lists before. But they are worth running again just to show, once again, how utterly dominant Billy Wagner has been.

Best ERA since the Deadball era (min: 500 ip)
1. Mariano Rivera: 2.34
(tie) Billy Wagner, 2.34
3. Hoyt Wilhelm, 2.52
4. Tom Henke, 2.67
(tie) Dave Smith, 2.67

Most strikeouts per nine innings pitched (min: 500 ip)
1. Billy Wagner, 11.96
2. Armando Benitez, 10.88
3. Octavio Dotel, 10.80
4. Randy Johnson, 10.78
5. Ugueth Urbina, 10.51

* * *

How much of what happened to Brad Lidge can be traced back to that singular, monstrous home run that Albert Pujols hit off him in the 2005 NLCS? I think the common thought is that Pujols’ homer ruined Lidge, at least temporarily. And I think the more detailed thought is that there were many, many things involved (there was just a fine detailed story by Eric Neel in ESPN the Mag on Lidge … it begins with Lidge laughing when you ask him about Pujols. “No, it’s not about that,” Lidge said. “It’s not any one thing”).

I believe strongly that we as a group need to rebel against common thinking in all walks of life. We need to analyze, inspect, study, question everything. That said – and I can’t believe I’m even saying this – I think the common thinking is right here. I think Pujols ruined Lidge. Sure there were other factors, other problems, but it seems to me that everything was triggered by the Pujols homer.

Remember that moment. Lidge was on the mound and the Astros were on the brink of their first World Series, and they were at home, and Minute Maid/Enron/Whatever They Call It Now Park was electrified. Lidge was invincible then. Batters only hoped to put the ball in play. In 2004, Lidge struck out 157 batters in 94 innings – I mean, we’re talking Little League stuff here. He threw 100 mph. He had that unbelievable slider. And in that big moment, with the World Series a breath away, Pujols hit one of the most gargantuan home runs I’ve ever seen – the only home run I can remember where I actually gasped when it was hit.

I don’t believe that elite athletes think the same way the rest of us do. They don’t over-think things. They bounce back. But in this case, I think something broke inside Brad Lidge. I don’t see how he could have avoided that. In the month of September, he had 11 saves, a 2.08 ERA and had not given up a homer. In the playoffs up to that point, he had pitched 8 innings, given up 1 run, struck out nine.

And, in the playoffs the year before, he had pitched 12 1/3 innings, given up five hits, one run and struck out 20. Hitters didn’t have a chance.

After the Pujols inning, the Astros went to the World Series and Lidge gave up a game-winning homer to Scott Podsednik, who famously had hit zero homers all year. And then he lost another World Series game by giving up an RBI single to Jermaine Dye.

And then in 2006 he more or less fell apart.

He was pitching much better this year in a non-closer role before getting hurt, and I’m rooting for him to come back and be his old dominant self because he seems like a good person and because he was so much fun to watch when he was right. I generally don’t believe in simple answers to complicated questions, but in this case I think the simplest answer is probably the closest to the truth: Albert Pujols crushed Brad Lidge.