This graphic is really, really cool. Created via Tableau by Jacob Olsufka and Rody Zakovich, you can access the original, interactive version of the graphic here or by clicking the image below. Created in July 2017, the images take a unique look at the triple plays that had been turned in Major League Baseball history up to that point, and some pretty cool art results from that analysis.
Do we need to have 280 brands of breakfast cereal? No, probably not. But we have them for a reason – because some people like them. It’s the same with baseball statistics.
This infographic baffles me in its sparseness. According to the Environics Analytics website, the graphic was created in light of the Toronto Blue Jays’ first playoff appearance in 22 years (going on to lose the 2015 ALCS to the Kansas City Royals). Compared to what appears to be less than 20% Canadian interest in the sport, a 2006 Gallup poll found that 47% of the U.S. public considers themselves to be baseball fans.
I haven’t been able to find a statistic revealing how many Canadians took the time to watch any of the 2015 playoffs, though attendance at the Rogers Centre was just under 50,000 for each of Games 3-5. Of course, Canadian attendance at Blue Jay games in 2020 was pretty much zero thanks to the pandemic and the Blue Jays getting kicked out of their own country for the season.
I’m not sure when this infographic was created, but it has a lot of fun information on it. It’s at least as recent as 2005, as it references the White Sox-Astros Series that year.
Edit: A friend pointed out the graphic must have been created in 2012, since it mentions it had been 104 years since the Cubs last won the Series.
In 2009, NPR’s Morning Edition did this short report on Henry Chadwick and the creation of what many consider to be the first box score:
The box score, as well as the various statistics that exist in the game, have evolved tremendously over the years. But it’s pretty commonly accepted that Chadwick is the man we have to thank for getting the ball rolling on the mathematical record-keeping side of the game.
You can find the full NPR story, including the text portion, here.
This parody of Ernest Lawrence Thayer’s “Casey At the Bat” was published in 2019 by Mitchell Nathanson, author of A People’s History of Baseball. Not only does it incorporate modern-day metrics like WAR, PitchTrax, and exit velocity, the poem also paints a frighteningly accurate picture of today’s in-stadium crowds. The piece is very well done, and in spite of shaking my head in recognition, I find that I rather enjoy it.
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney whiffed again, the eighteenth K that night,
A sickly silence fell, for somehow baseball wasn’t right.
A straggling few got up and left, annoyed they even came;
And most who stayed were kind of drunk or wagered on the game.
Yet still to come was Casey, whom the fans had long extolled,
Though at the age of 31 the metrics deemed him old.
But first ahead was Flynn, a player much accursed;
His BABIP was atrocious, and his WAR was even worse.
Another guy came up as well, his name recalled by few;
Confusion sowed by double switches made in hour two.
But Flynn defied the numbers, making contact with the ball;
And sent it on a mighty arc — it caromed off the wall.
—The guy should be on third,— a salty graybeard spat and cursed,
As Flynn removed his batting gloves, a jogger still at first.
The other guy, as well, reached base, a waiver-wire addition;
Dropped by a last place club dumping salary without contrition;
And when the blaring music stopped, fans noticed what occurred,
Instead of crossing o’er the plate, young Flynn just jogged to third.
As Casey stepped into the box, the scoreboard roared “Make Noise!”;
Which the crowd most surely would’ve done, if not for all their toys.
About 5,000 hometown fans were checking in on Twitter;
So most remained oblivious to Casey as the hitter.
Ten thousand eyes were somewhere else as he scratched upon the dirt;
And Velcro-strapped his batting gloves and touched six places on his shirt.
And kissed his bat, then tapped the plate nine times or maybe 10;
Then from the box did Casey step, and start it all again.
The pitcher’s antics on the mound were also quite a show;
Whole seasons seemed to pass before he hinted at a throw.
Yet here it came, the cowhide sphere, arriving at great speed;
‘strike one,— the umpire firmly called. But PitchTrax disagreed.
The fans who watched upon their phones could see it plain: outside;
Unless their phones had zero bars, or batteries had died.
“Kill him! Kill the umpire!” the fans all stood and roared;
At least so roared the older ones, the younger ones seemed bored.
Two strikes remained. The oldsters, fretting, began to wring their hands;
While younger fans, in hour four, sped toward concession stands.
Then Casey dug in once again; the second spheroid flew,
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, ‘strike Two.’
“Fraud!” cried the maddened few at all the blue-clad, rulebound fools,
While waving off the heady clouds sent up from nearby Juuls.
Now Casey’s face grew stern and cold, the fans all rose as one;
As midnight neared their hope was clear: just let the game be done.
As Casey runs the metrics, and adjusts his swing for lift;
The fielders check their little cards, and drift into a shift.
And now the pitcher fires a rocket off, despite his ample gut;
And now the air is shattered by great Casey’s uppercut.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sport is as it used to be;
And fans still hang on Casey’s fate, not exit velocity.
But that era’s gone — don’t cry into your $15 beer;
While all the laughing children shout, “Football season’s here!”
The Baseball 101 series is one that I started a long time ago with a vague idea that it’d be nice to sprinkle in some posts for folks who aren’t familiar with the game, but would like to learn more. This has, admittedly, fallen a bit by the wayside. As someone who has been a fan of the game for years, and knowing that much of my audience have the same kind of familiarity, the idea of writing about something as fundamental as a base hit seems like unnecessary overkill.
However, while visiting family this weekend, I learned that my sixteen-year-old nephew is not familiar with the rules of baseball (the real irony here being that his father had once played college baseball — that affinity for the game evidently didn’t get passed on). This discovery has me thinking again that there might be some value in this after all.
Therefore, today we shall define the base hit. In baseball score keeping, a hit is credited to a batter when that batter safely reaches base after hitting the ball into fair territory. The batter must reach first base before any fielder can either tag him with the ball, throw to another player protecting the base for a force out, or tag first base while carrying the ball. The batter must also reach base without the benefit of an error or a fielder’s choice in order for the at-bat to count as a hit.
The hit is scored the moment the batter reaches first base safely. A hit may be classified as a single (reaching first base), double (second base), triple (third base), or home run (making it all the way around the bases to score), depending on how far the batter makes it around the bases safely. If he is put out while attempting to stretch his hit into a double, triple, or home run on the same play, he still gets credit for a hit, based on how far he made it safely.
Doubles, triples, and home runs are also called extra base hits. All four types of hits are counted equally when figuring a player’s batting average, though other statistics may be impacted differently.
This infographic appears to have been published in March 2017, based on fans surveyed during the 2016 season. While I’m curious about the methodology behind the survey itself (e.g. how do you define “baseball fan”?), the results below are interesting.