One of the things the game never had was the participation of the great Negro League players like Josh Gibson, Satchel Paige, Cool Papa Bell, Buck Leonard, ad infinitum.  Until now!  And not just Negro League players, but great players from Cuban, like Tony Lazzeri and Martin Dihigo, and other countries that were never allowed to play in the Major Leagues because of segregation. 

Scott Simkus, an amateur baseball historian from the suburbs of Chicago, helped the dice game track down the necessary stats for their inclusion. 

Simkus helped solve that. His passion for Strat-O-Matic led him to the baseball shelves of the public library, where he discovered Only the Ball Was White, the pioneering history of Negro League baseball. Fascinated, he began reading old copies of the Chicago Defender, where he found box scores for the Chicago American Giants, the city’s Negro League franchise.

Simkus contacted Richman, offering to do the grunt work of compiling box scores from the Defender, the Amsterdam News, and other black papers. By typing the numbers onto Excel spreadsheets, Simkus was able to determine fielding averages, platoon splits, strikeouts. Baseball Almanac readers take those stats for granted, but they’d been unknown for Negro Leaguers. Strat-O-Matic statisticians then came up with a “major league equivalency” formula to adjust the numbers to major league levels by studying how Negro Leaguers had performed against minor-league teams, Cuban winter league teams, and barnstorming big leaguers. They determined that the quality of play in the Negro Leagues was somewhere between AAA and the majors. So Oscar Charleston, who batted in the 0.390s against Negro League pitching, won’t hit that well when pitted against a cardboard Dizzy Dean or Lefty Grove.

The Negro League set is out now, featuring 103 of the finest players in history.  Surprisingly, even with the addition of all these players, Babe Ruth is still considered the greatest player of any generation.

Looks like somebody at mlb.com jumped the gun last night and is probably losing their job right now! As I type this!  This is no Dewey vs. Truman moment, but still.

For anyone interested in the game, Jimmy Rollins of the Philadelphia Phillies had the game-winning hit.  Phillies 5, Dodgers 4.  They’re up 3-1 in their series versus Los Angeles and I’m starting to get that feeling that this Phillies team has a bit of dynasty in them.  I mean, something good was bound to happen for the city at some point, no? (Thx, Ben)

He will always be the Iron Horse of baseball, a humble and classy person, perhaps the greatest player of his generation, if Lou Gehrig wasn’t overshadowed by the towering stature of Babe Ruth.

It’s not just the 2,130 straight games played, the .340 lifetime average, 1,995 career RBIs, 493 HRs, twice MVP of the American League, Triple Crown winner in 1934 or because he was the first player to hit four homeruns in a single game.  No what’s most impressive about Lou Gehrig were the 277-words he spoke at Yankees Stadium on July 4, 1939 — only 36-years-old and two years shy of his death.

“He taught me that the human spirit can transcend any affliction,” said Chris Pendergast, a former schoolteacher in Miller Place, N.Y., who has battled A.L.S. for more than 16 years. Communicating through his wife, Pendergast said: “I am now a quadriplegic, using a feeding tube and an external ventilator for part of the day. But with Lou as a model, I still feel I have an awful lot to live for.”

Those who face other challenges have also found inspiration in Gehrig’s life. Joshua Prager, a journalist and author, sustained a disabling spinal cord injury in a 1990 bus accident when he was 19. Prager, who wrote “The Echoing Green,” about Bobby Thomson’s 1951 home run at the Polo Grounds, said he admired Gehrig before the accident. In time, his appreciation of Gehrig, who like Prager attended Columbia University, grew deeper.

“In the face of death, he remained defiant,” Prager said. “He hated any maudlin displays, and as he said in his July 4 speech, he still considered himself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”

In honor of Mr. Gehrig, MLB will read his speech during the seventh inning stretch next Saturday, July 4. It will be 70 years to the day.

“Fans, for the past two weeks you have been reading about the bad break I got. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. I have been in ballparks for seventeen years and have never received anything but kindness and encouragement from you fans.

“Look at these grand men. Which of you wouldn’t consider it the highlight of his career just to associate with them for even one day? Sure, I’m lucky. Who wouldn’t consider it an honor to have known Jacob Ruppert? Also, the builder of baseball’s greatest empire, Ed Barrow? To have spent six years with that wonderful little fellow, Miller Huggins? Then to have spent the next nine years with that outstanding leader, that smart student of psychology, the best manager in baseball today, Joe McCarthy? Sure, I’m lucky.

“When the New York Giants, a team you would give your right arm to beat, and vice versa, sends you a gift — that’s something. When everybody down to the groundskeepers and those boys in white coats remember you with trophies — that’s something. When you have a wonderful mother-in-law who takes sides with you in squabbles with her own daughter — that’s something. When you have a father and a mother who work all their lives so that you can have an education and build your body — it’s a blessing. When you have a wife who has been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you dreamed existed — that’s the finest I know.

“So I close in saying that I might have been given a bad break, but I’ve got an awful lot to live for. Thank you.”

We could all learn something from those words.

Don’t forget to call you’re dad today, if he’s still in your life.  They’re important, ya know.

Kids also learn from fathers during a unique form of papa play. Unlike mothers, fathers tend to roughhouse with their children.

“They rile them up, almost to the point that they are going to snap, and then calm them down,” Geary said.

This pattern teaches kids to control their emotions — a trait that garners them popularity among superiors and peers, he said.

This isn’t the most exemplary story about my Dad — behavior-wise — but it is one of my favorites because it involved baseball and something so much more.

Anyway, the setup is one of my final high school baseball games.  Don’t really remember the score or some of the finer details, but I remember my final at bat.

I hit a sharp grounder in the hole and being a relatively quick lefty I could usually make any grounder hit in the hole a difficult play for any shortstop.  On this particular play, the shortstop made a good play on the ball and an even better throw.  It was close and the case could be made that I was safe by half-a-step.  The umpire, probably wanting to go home as soon as possible, banged me out.  And I was getting ready to go talk to him about his incorrect call, I hear my dad start yelling from the stands and then he wouldn’t let up. And he kept yelling and yelling and yelling.  Until, if memory serves correct, he was asked to leave the stands.

Normally, I’d think geez he’s acting like one of those parents.  You know the ones I’m talking about.  But in that moment his passion for baseball and his love for me coalesced into something that he could probably never verbalize.  I’m sure in his mind he wanted my final at bat to be a basehit.  But more than anything, it was a moment I’ll never forget because he fought for me.  It was so crystal as I was hunched over and dejected from not getting the right call, that even if I was never much of a ballplayer my old man would still go to bat for me.

That’s what sons need:  fathers who are willing to fight for them, teach them manners, how to respect other people, act tender and loving towards women, be firm in establishing discipline, teach them to hit a golf ball or baseball or throw a spiral or shoot a free throw, share with them the music of their youth, impress upon them the importance of a firm handshake and making eye contact with others, stress the importance of picking yourselves up off the ground after a colossal disappointment, how to shuck corn and grill slabs of meat, how to tie a tie, and never trying to live their dreams vicariously through their sons.

In essence, kids need fathers to show them how to be well-adjusted men. Luckily, my father gave me everything I need.

In baseball, a curveball creates a physical effect and a perceptual puzzle. The physical effect (the curve) arises because the ball’s rotation leads to a deflection in the ball’s path. The perceptual puzzle arises because the deflection is actually gradual but is often perceived as an abrupt change in direction (the break). Our illusions suggest that the perceived “break” may be caused by the transition from the central visual system to the peripheral visual system. Like a curveball, the spinning disks in the illusions appear to abruptly change direction when an observer switches from foveal to peripheral viewing.

Unforntunately, the actual illusion can’t be embedded, but it’s worth checking out if you’ve ever played baseball or are remotely curious on the baffling pitch.

“Ball two stands alone, above any of the other dull business on the diamond. The intentional walk at least adds a base runner to the game. The halfhearted throw to first to check the runner is a sign that the pitcher is feeling tension. But ball two signifies almost nothing,” he writes for the Boston Globe. 

It is disapointing then, that for a self-professed baseball lover, Scocca misses the mark of the significance of ball two.  Baseball is a game of long con, of team chess, where winning depends largely on strategic decisions and subtle variances. 

Contrary to signifying nothing, ball two is one of those subtle variances.  Ball two can indirectly change the entire complexion of a game of baseball. 

Using a statistical measurement from Sports Illustrated’s Joe Posnanski, Scocca argues that not much changes when a batter takes ball two. 

But the numbers also show the points where nothing happens. Batters who fell behind 1-2 batted .190. If they got ball two, their average crept up to only .205. “[T]here is nothing really even about a 2-2 count,” Posnanski wrote. “The pitcher is still firmly in control.”

But those numbers are completely misleading.  The statistics you need to examine are the players batting averages when ball two affects the count.  Based on statistics from the 2007 MLB season, ball two had a significant, if subtle, effect on games.  Here are the batting averages based upon count.

You’ll notice that there isn’t much difference between 1-2 and 2-2 counts, as Posnanski notes and Scocca reiterates. 

0-0 = .344
1-0 = .341

2-0 = .351
3-0 = .394

0-1 = .324
1-1 = .327

2-1 = .338
3-1 = .368

0-2 = .166
1-2 = .178

2-2 = .195
3-2 = .233

But there is a markedly huge difference between counts 2-1 (.338) and 1-2 (.178) and a slight difference between 2-0 (.351) and 1-1 (.327).  Those are the counts when ball two matters.  Ball two matters in relation to it not being a strike. 

So yes, while ball two, may on the surface, have little significance to the overall complexion to a baseball game — at least in comparison to say, more impactful offensive strikes like: the triple, the walk-off homerun, the stolen base or suicide squeeze, — it is the essence of baseball.  It is a minor event that can have drastic impacts.  For ball two is the minor rumble which makes all major quakes possible.

I won’t get into the Yankees Empire versus the Red Sox Nation boondogle because both teams make it increasingly difficult to love either one.  As much as it pains me to admit this, I don’t think I would be a Red Sox nutcase had I not grown up in the shadow of Fenway Park. 

That is to say, they’re isn’t much to love about them in the same sense that there isn’t much to love about the Yankees or The Duke Blue Devils or the Los Angeles Lakers.  The distinctions that made me cling to them as a child and be protective and defensive about them are no longer there. 

Still, it’s gonna be a helluva 2009 baseball season. 

Also: Blackout maps for Canada and The United States, to get an idea of which geographical areas actually root for which teams.

I’m trying to wrap my head around a KKK baseball club and during that 20-seconds realized that they probably did go out lynching after the photo or at some point and I realized how upset that made me, of course after making a bad joke to deal with the uncomfortableness of the KKK having a freaking baseball team. 

[via 3.bp.blogspot.com]

The Red Sox have completed the largest comeback ever by a team facing playoff elimination, defeating the Rays, 8-7, on Drew’s walk-off ground-rule double/single over the head of Rays right fielder Gabe Gross to score Youkilis. The Red Sox were down 7-0 following the sixth inning, but scored four in the seventh, three in the eighth, and the game-winner in the ninth. Drew had previously hit a two-run homer to make it 7-6 in the eighth. It’s pandemonium at Fenway Park. The Sox trail in the series, three games to two, and will board a plane bound for St. Petersburgh, Fla. tonight.

I don’t need to imagine the pandemonium taking place having been there for the craziness of 2004.

Sure it’ll exist next year in a fancy $1.5 billion dollar affair, but it won’t be the stadium where Ruth hit homeruns and Lou Gehrig played every game until he no longer could, where during the mid-nineties it seemed like every Yankee pitcher could throw perfect games and no-hitters.

The Yankees opened the gates seven hours early, allowing fans to stroll the warning track for one last walk in the park. Closer to game time, the team unveiled the American League championship flag that was raised on the first opening day, in 1923.

Bob Sheppard recorded an introduction, promising to be there to christen the new Yankee Stadium next April 16. A team of stand-ins, dressed in old-time uniforms, processed into center field, representing some of the late Yankees legends. They might as well have come in from the cornfields; the �Field of Dreams� overtone was palpable.

One by one, the living greats took their positions, all to heartfelt cheers. The children of other standouts � Randy Maris, Michael Munson, David Mantle and others � took their fathers� places.

Willie Randolph slid into his position, second base, and rubbed dirt on his jersey, reveling in his return to the Yankees. Whitey Ford pretended to lift out the pitcher�s rubber. The fans reprised chants that rang through the walls years ago � �Bob-by Mur-cer!� �Ti-no! Ti-no!� and so on.

Many of the stars not there were shown on the video board in right-center field � Rickey Henderson and Chuck Knoblauch, Sparky Lyle and Orlando Hern�ndez. No mention of Roger Clemens.

The bench was so stuffed that some of the Yankees sat on the dugout roof to watch. Jorge Posada stood on the field, taking photos with a digital camera, just another fan with rich memories of a stadium that always seemed to give his team an edge.

[Yankee Stadium Receives Long Ovation After 85-Year Run]

Not quit. We’ll miss ya big guy, you will always be that lovable stoner out in left field to us, who could hit like a ballet dancer but held up minor league games to look for diamond earrings.

Sadly, the Sox might have been better off trading for Favre.

Now, it wasn’t her singing that was bad, that was actually okay. No it was her use guitar, which sounded lost in the acoustics of The House that Ruth Built. Seriously. It was like she was tuning her guitar or not even playing, so you have to wonder what was the point. Still, those white pants and American-flag T-shirt were purdy. [via]

It is a benchmark, like Lance Armstrong or Mario Lemieux before him, that Jon Lester has set; not just for other pitchers but for Cancer survivors and those going through treatment everywhere. Last night Jon Lester told the world that yes, anything is indeed possible. Cancer is not necessarily an end.

In a baseball season quickly becoming remembered for the illicit actions of past players like the detestable Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens, it is moments like last night that remind us why we love baseball.

And Lester? He’s looked like a 24-year-old former wunderkind in the middle of a learning curve. He’s physically stronger now that he’s further removed from cancer treatments, and he has added a changeup to complement his fastball, curveball and cutter. But he entered the game with a 2-2 record, a 3.95 ERA and 33 strikeouts and 29 walks.

Center fielder Jacoby Ellsbury’s diving catch on Guillen’s blooper in the fourth will be remembered as the no-hit saver in much the same way Dustin Pedroia’s spectacular defense preserved Buchholz’s no-hitter against Baltimore in September. But it was impossible to overlook the contribution of catcher Jason Varitek, who did the usual mind-meld with his pitcher on the way to catching his fourth career no-hitter. “Every pitcher has complete trust in what he calls,” Farrell said when reached by phone Monday night, “and that allows guys to relax so that their best stuff comes out.”

Catcher Jason Varitek has now caught four no-hitters by four different pitchers, which is, I believe a record.� But the story of the night is the Red Sox pitcher.� He may never be a Cy Young Award winner (so often those who throw no-hitters seem to not be Cy Young Award winners and vice versa [remember Nolan Ryan, he of seven no-hitters never won the Cy Young Award!?!]) but Lester will slot in nicely to the middle of the rotation for years to come.� Very good and reliable third and fourth starters are what helps build championships.

When the game ended, the no-hitter no longer in doubt, manager Terry Francona came onto the field and hugged the pitcher like a dad would his son.� Hugging the breath right out of him.� Lester shared the essence of their conversation in an on-field TV interview.

“He said he was proud of me,” Lester said. “We’ve been through a lot the last couple of years, and he’s been like a second dad to me. It’s just a special moment right there.”

Photo credit: (Jim Davis/Boston Globe)