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Article on a Clutch Pitcher (knock on wood)

Rotblatt
Oct 10 2006 08:00 PM

[url=http://www.slate.com/id/2151273]Fascinating.[/url]

]In Search of Clutch Pitching:
Is Tom Glavine the best in baseball when the chips are down?


By Josh Levin
Posted Tuesday, Oct. 10, 2006, at 6:44 PM ET

The baseball playoffs can drive even the most sensible minds to hyperbole. When you hear in the next few weeks that Albert Pujols is the best right-handed hitter ever, or that Jose Reyes is the most exciting young shortstop of all time, feel free to shake your head and cluck your tongue. But there is one crazy-sounding notion that you shouldn't dismiss: The Mets' Tom Glavine is the best clutch pitcher of his generation.

Baseball's number crunchers have been obsessed with clutch hitting for decades. Mostly, they've argued that it doesn't exist—that everyone who thinks Derek Jeter is Mr. Clutch doesn't understand random variation. While the clutch-hitting question has spawned piles of research, clutch pitching is a phenomenon that's gone essentially unexamined. Bill James, the freelance researcher turned Red Sox executive, says there's a simple reason why everyone wonders about clutch hitters and no one talks about clutch pitchers. "For the same reason that there is more speculation about Bigfoot than there is about lizards," James says. "We know we have lizards."

Clutch pitchers certainly seem more likely to exist than clutch hitters. Pitching is an intellectual exercise. It makes sense that some guys would excel at setting up batters in the game's anxious moments, and some would get undone by their sweaty palms. (As James, a clutch-hitting agnostic, told me: "Pitching is planned. Hitting is reactive. It's much harder to plan a reaction than to execute a plan.") But even if you're inclined to believe Bill James, you're only halfway there. The real question is: Which pitchers are clutch and which ones are chokers?

When fans think of a clutch pitcher, they inevitably conjure a dominant reliever like saves record-holder Trevor Hoffman. When I asked Hoffman whom he considered clutch, he conjured a dominant reliever: the Yankees' Mariano Rivera. It's not very interesting to look at relievers' clutchness, though. There are already stats—saves and blown saves—that do a quick and dirty, if imperfect, job of assessing relief aces. Besides, calling a closer clutch is like saying a guy with the world's only metal detector is great at finding coins. Hoffman and Rivera seem clutch because they get so many opportunities to play the hero.

Let's limit ourselves, then, to starting pitchers. In the age of the six-inning starter, a pitcher's performance in late-game situations has become increasingly irrelevant. It makes more sense to examine performance with runners in scoring position—a screw-up here will cost your team runs, and a strong performance will keep your team in the game.

Intuitively, it seems like a clutch pitcher would tally lots of strikeouts with men on base. But according to Arizona Diamondbacks pitching coach Bryan Price, it's important for a pitcher not to "overthrow" in these situations—that is, to rear back and throw harder in an attempt to blow the ball past the batter. Price says that chokers are pitchers who won't let their defense help out. "The guys who tend to get in trouble are the guys who don't want to get hit," he says.

Nate Silver of the analytical Web site Baseball Prospectus agrees. He says a clutch pitcher is the same thing as a smart situational pitcher—someone who's internalized that, with men on base, walks don't hurt as much as extra-base hits. Silver says one pitcher has mastered these precepts more than his contemporaries: Tom Glavine.

If you watched Game 2 of the Division Series, in which Glavine threw six scoreless innings, you know the 40-year-old left-hander isn't imposing. His fastball reaches only the high 80s. His main skill, and it's no small one, is the ability to pound the ball to the outside corner. Glavine is particularly adept at doing this with men on base. According to Stats Inc., Glavine's opponents have a .303 career on-base percentage and a .380 career slugging average with none on. With runners in scoring position, they have a .353 OBP and a .345 slugging average. In tense situations, Glavine uses hitters' aggressiveness against them—take a walk if you want, but if you swing you won't hit the ball square. It's not as glamorous as a bushel of strikeouts, but it keeps runs off the board.

Silver suggests that another good way to measure clutchness is to compare a pitcher's ERA—the number of earned runs he allows per nine innings—with what his ERA should be based on his peripheral statistics—the amount of hits, walks, and home runs he gives up, and the number of men he strikes out. If a pitcher consistently gives up a lot of hits but has a low ERA, Silver says, there's some amount of skill involved—he's doing something to keep those base runners off the scoreboard. Conversely, if the pitcher's actual ERA is consistently higher than his peripheral ERA, he's allowing more runs than he should.

When Silver used peripheral ERA numbers to create a clutchness toteboard, Glavine came out on top. Since 1990, he's allowed 79 fewer runs than you'd predict from his stats, the best figure in the majors. On the other side of the ledger is Nolan Ryan, who allowed 100 more runs over his career than his peripherals would suggest. (To look at Silver's list of the most-clutch and least-clutch pitchers since 1946, click here.)

Is Glavine, the crafty left-hander, really more clutch than the fireballing Ryan? I expected Tom House, Ryan's pitching coach when he played for the Texas Rangers, to say that was malarkey. But House says the stats make sense. House says that Ryan always struggled with a tendency to try to strike everyone out rather than settle for ground-ball outs. Ryan muscled up with men on base, causing him to overthrow and lose command. Glavine, though, places his change-up and middling fastball on the outside corner rather than trying to blow hitters away. He doesn't overthrow with men on base—he just keeps aiming for the outside corner.

Silver's lists don't suggest that strikeout pitchers can't be clutch—Steve Carlton, for one, ranks high on the all-time clutch list. There is compelling evidence, though, that clutch pitching doesn't correlate with the speed of your fastball. The top two guys on the clutchness toteboard—Whitey Ford and Jim Palmer—relied more on control and guile than velocity. The 5-foot-10 Ford, the winningest pitcher in Yankee history, relied on his legendary precision and a diverse repertoire of breaking pitches. Palmer, who famously never allowed a grand slam, told me that he owed his success to controlling his adrenaline. "You don't have to throw every pitch as hard as you can," he says.

The choke list is littered with pitchers like Len Barker and Jose DeLeon—strikeout artists who never had great control. The most surprising name is probably Jack Morris, who pitched a 10-inning shutout in Game 7 of the 1991 World Series. But like Ryan, Barker, and DeLeon, Morris was no control pitcher—he was perennially among the league leaders in walks allowed.

Several players and coaches told me that you don't want to "overthink" things in the clutch—that you should trust your ability. But perhaps it's tough for a dominant-yet-wild pitcher like Nolan Ryan to trust himself with the bases loaded—after all, he got into this situation because his physical skills let him down. For a guy like Glavine, though, the skills needed to wriggle out of a jam parallel what he always does: outsmart batters and hit his spots. Now, isn't that a guy you'd want on the mound with the bases loaded?

Edgy DC
Oct 10 2006 10:18 PM

Great stuff. Tom House thought through these kind of things so well it wasn't funny.

metirish
Oct 11 2006 09:11 AM

Cool article....let's hope Glavine can keep it going...

Let's Go Mets.

dinosaur jesus
Oct 11 2006 09:20 AM

I don't buy it. Wouldn't you think the fact that the pitchers who give up fewer runs than their peripheral numbers would indicate tend to be high-hit, low-walk, low-strikeout guys, and the ones who give up more tend to be power pitchers, suggest that there's something in those styles of pitching--not in the pitchers' "clutchness"--that's making that happen? Also, it seems to me that with runners on, it's normal for on base percentage to go and and slugging percentage to go down. It doesn't mean anything to look just at Glavine's numbers. I think all of this is just a way of saying that over his career, Tom Glavine has been a really good pitcher who did it without overpowering stuff. But I think we all knew that.

Johnny Dickshot
Oct 11 2006 09:36 AM

I'm with Jesus now.

(uh, not literally)

Edgy DC
Oct 11 2006 09:38 AM

You're right in that you seem to be suggesting that he merely found a different way of succeeding, and this method is largely documenting that, but the article suggests that there are guys who don't fit the profie who flourish in such situations and guys who do fit the profile who don't. And that's pretty cool.

As Silver says, it's the guy who has most internalized the values of how to limit the bleeding into his approach that has flourished.

All that said, keep in mind, in the 1969 postseason, Nolan Ryan pulled off one of the all-time clutch performances in Met history, being brought in by Hodges with the bases loaded and digging out of it. Hodges explained that he trusted Ryan because his wildness had made him used to pitching in such situations. Obviously that logic has its limits.

The problem is that there are different types of pinches. There's times when you want to limit the damage to a run or so, and, in that case, a Glavine is your man. But when one run is so crucial that it's as damaging as seven would be, then you'd rather have Ryan. He may give up seven, but he'd probably have a better chance than Glavine of giving up zero.

Maybe in ten bases-loaded, no out situations, Glavine would yield 1.9 runs and Ryan 2.6, but Glavine would have 2 zeros in his array, and Ryan 4.

(Warning: I made up those numbers, based merely on an inference from the article.)

So the suggestion would be that Ryan's problem was treating too many early innings like they were the ninth. While Glavine, who came up two decades and an overturned baseball culture after Ryan, knew that the ninth was somebody else's job, and his job was to keep the game within reach until then. And that, perhaps, is why he seemingly did a better job stretching his peripherals and run support into wins.

dinosaur jesus
Oct 11 2006 09:49 AM

I'd say that you might be quite right about what Ryan and Glavine would do in the same situation, and about when it would be best to use each of them. But it would also be true about a lot of other pitchers who fit their profile.It is interesting about Carlton, though. I don't remember him well enough to say, but is it possible that depending on the situation, he could be a completely different kind of pitcher? The way Pedro is when he's rolling--he'll go three times through the order sometimes and get the hitters out a different way each time.

Edgy DC
Oct 11 2006 09:55 AM

That's an interesting theory. Maybe the multiple Cy Young winners --- like Palmer, Seaver, and Martinez --- can be either, as needed. Little Ryans when plowing through the lineup, but little Glavines when the chips are down.

metirish
Oct 11 2006 11:36 AM



The Peterson prism
Mets pitching coach sees things in a different light
BY BARBARA BARKER
Newsday Staff Writer

October 11, 2006


If you met him without his Mets uniform, you would never guess what Rick Peterson does for a living. Maybe it is the early-1980s Wayne Gretzky haircut that has him looking more like an aging rock star than a new-age baseball coach. Or maybe it's his way of talking, the way he will cite everything from Far Eastern philosophy to the habits of Fortune 500 companies when speaking about how he teaches pitching.

Part Phil Jackson and part Dr. Phil, Peterson stands apart from the rest of his baseball brethren. Though there are some who might find his shtick a bit tedious, it has convinced the Mets' pitching staff that they have what it takes to compete with the best in baseball.

How have the Mets' done it? How have they shrugged off the losses of El Duque and Pedro Martinez and rolled into the NLCS?

They've done it by taking castoffs from other organizations - guys such as Guillermo Mota and Oliver Perez - and getting them to contribute. They've done it by getting good enough pitching from guys such as John Maine. They've done it because Peterson has taken the time to sit down with guys and figure out what makes them tick.

"He is kind of the Phil Jackson of baseball," reliever Billy Wagner said. "He knows what works for each pitcher. He knows that the things that work for Mota aren't going to work for me. Sometimes guys need a slap on the back of the head to get going. Sometimes guys need a pat on the back. He knows what way to go."

Maybe that is because Peterson was one of the those guys who needed a slap, a guy who needed to hit bottom before figuring out what way he was supposed to go.

The son of former Pirates general manager Pete Peterson, he pitched four years in college and four years in the minors, despite the fact that his arm had never been the same since injuring it his freshman year.

The story goes that Peterson finally realized his calling the winter after his final season as a player. Peterson was living in a tiny apartment in San Diego in the summer of 1978, painting pictures of the ocean while working as a physical education instructor at a local elementary school for $60 a week.

He went for a walk on the beach one morning and it dawned on him that he could combine his two loves. He could become the sort of pitching coach he wished he had had. "I was seeking," Peterson said. "There was nobody out there doing this, what we're doing now."

Peterson's program is a blend of spirituality, psychology and mechanics. It's something he developed 16 years ago after meeting doctors at the American Sports Medicine Institute in Birmingham, Ala. As part of his program, Peterson likes to take his pitchers for a biomechanical evaluation, the goal of which is to reduce the risk of injury by addressing the efficiency of a pitcher's mechanics.

Another key to the Peterson program is a dog-eared piece of paper that he carries in a black book in his back pocket. On the paper is a drawing of what he calls "a performance triangle," a device of his own invention which asserts that physical conditioning, fundamental skills and mental toughness all play an equal role in a pitcher's success.

Not everyone in baseball has been crazy about, or even understood, Peterson's approach. Both the Toronto Blue Jays and the Chicago White Sox let him go after short stints. His reputation changed, however, after he was hired by Oakland in 1998 and went on to build one of the game's best staffs.

Though Peterson is still teased for his infamous "I can fix him in 10 minutes" line after the Victor Zambrano trade two years ago, his successes are becoming more and more apparent as the Mets move deeper into the playoffs.

His biggest success will take the mound tonight when Tom Glavine opens the NLCS for the Mets. Glavine credits Peterson for resurrecting his game.

Peterson said all he had to do was convince Glavine that there was a lot in his pitching repertoire he had yet to use.

"I told him Tiger won the Masters by 12 strokes, and then he went out and decided he needed a whole new swing," Peterson said. "He had a lot of clubs in his bag and he hadn't even taken them out on the course yet."

Glavine will be taking them out in his biggest game in quite some time tonight. And Peterson will be watching, triangle in hand.

Working wonders

Team ERAs under pitching coach Rick Peterson:

League

Year Team ERA rank

1998 Oakland 4.83 9

1999 Oakland 4.69 3

2000 Oakland 4.58 3

2001 Oakland 3.59 2

2002 Oakland 3.68 1

2003 Oakland 3.63 1

2004 Mets 4.09 7

2005 Mets 3.76 3

2006 Mets 4.14 3

]

Vic Sage
Oct 11 2006 02:33 PM

from my MFY-fan brother:

]Bad logic. Bad definition. Clutch pitching is not the ability to wiggle out of jams, it is the ability to keep the other team from scoring in big games.

Wiggling out of jams is the specialty of ground ball pitchers, since by their nature they give up a lot of hits, mostly ground balls hit between infielders, and generate a lot of double plays, mostly ground balls hit at infielders. A Randy Johnson type doesn't let anybody on in the first place. By this guy's reconing he isn't as clutch as Glavine or Ford. By my reckoning, I've seen him pitch big on one days rest and win a division playoff single-handedly (1995) - he didn't wiggle out of jams because nobody ever got on. That's clutch pitching. Sandy Koufax winning all 3 games of the '65 world series, the last a shutout on 2 days rest, is clutch pitching.

Yancy Street Gang
Oct 11 2006 02:52 PM

]Clutch pitching is not the ability to wiggle out of jams, it is the ability to keep the other team from scoring in big games.


That doesn't make sense. Couldn't both be examples of clutch pitching?

dinosaur jesus
Oct 11 2006 04:00 PM

If you allow fewer men on, you have fewer jams. But if someone who gets into more jams is better at getting out of them, and someone who has fewer isn't as good as getting out of them, that does seem to come to the same thing. It's all pretty circular.

Edgy DC
Oct 12 2006 10:26 PM

OK, I'm convinced.

metirish
Oct 12 2006 10:30 PM

Glavine = amazin warrior....

Willets Point
Oct 12 2006 10:31 PM