Looking Back on ’04
Now that the worst season in Mariner history is over, we can look back at just what went wrong.
Offensive Ranks
Runs (698): 25th in MLB, 14th in AL
BA (.270): 11th in MLB, 6th in AL
OBP (.331): 19th in MLB, 10th in AL
SLG (.396): 27th in MLB, 14th in AL
Part of the offensive struggles can be assigned to Safeco Field, which played as the best pitcher’s park in baseball this year. It deflated run scoring 17.4 percent compared to a league average park. However, Safeco actually increased home runs and doubles slightly, and the glaring lack of power had nothing to do with the home park. The M’s simply had a roster of singles hitters with no power. Stick that kind of team in a park that is death to singles and you’re going to finish last in the league in runs more often than not.
Defensive Ranks
ERA (4.76): 21st in MLB, 8th in AL
BAA (.264): 12th in MLB, 4th in AL
OBPA (.336): 17th in MLB, 8th in AL
SLGA (.441): 24th in MLB, 11th in AL
Defensive Efficiency (.700): 6th in MLB, 2nd in AL
Considering how pitcher friendly Safeco was this year, you could make a case that the M’s were the worst team in baseball at preventing runs. While we talked quite a bit throughout the year about the defensive downgrades the team took, the majority of the blame falls squarely on the shoulders of the pitchers, as the defense was actually the strength of the team. It just wasn’t the Greatest Defense Played in 50 Years level that we saw in 2003, and the falloff was noticable. We also need to remember that a majority of the extraordinarily poor performances were achieved by pitchers who were simply getting a tryout after the team was out of contention, so the overall numbers don’t reflect entirely why the team played so poorly the first two months.
The season can basically be summed up into thirds, I believe.
April/May
The offense vastly underperforms expectations, failing to score enough runs to win ballgames. The pitching staff is slightly above average but let down by a below average defense. The combination leads to many losses.
June/July
The offense and defense improve slightly, but the impact isn’t significant, as the pitching gets significantly worse. The small gains seen by the positional players are overwhelmed by the leap backwards taken by the pitchers.
August/September
Team officially gives up, plays a cast of replacement level players, results stop bearing any relevance to team that was built in offseason. Offense and defense take significant steps forward, pitching gets even worse, but overall effect is evened out by surges from everyday players.
If someone asks why the ’04 Mariners failed, the true answer is not any one thing. The inexplicable collapses by Scott Spiezio and Rich Aurilia certainly hurt. There was no backup plan for inevitable collapses by Ryan Franklin and Shigetoshi Hasegawa. The injuries to Joel Pineiro, Rafael Soriano, Julio Mateo, and Eddie Guardado exposed an overrated pitching staff. Nearly every single veteran experienced greater-than-should-be-expected decline. The team was bad from day one, going wire-to-wire in last place. There was no one reason, no singular hole to fix. The good ship Mariner sprunk leaks on all sides, and making it seaworthy again will be a challenge. That is why the next post is titled “Looking Ahead to ’05”.
And so it ends
Congratulations, Edgar. We don’t care that you didn’t end your career with a home run. The first 309 were good enough. Thank you for an amazing career.
Separate post for game, other complaints
Overheard at the ballpark, 10/2, with extended preface:
I was sitting next to this 10-yr old kid tonight, who talked to me about everything, and was pretty quick on the uptake. In fact, I think he might have done a better job as a GM last year than the actual team’s much-more experienced brain trust would have. (“Who did we trade Guillen for?” “What? That was stupid.”) So I answered his questions as best I could through the game, explaining who Kida and the other pitchers were, so on. Then when they started to make preparations for Edgar’s ceremony, bringing out these red carpets, he said —
“If Masao Kida steps on the carpet, we should throw tomatoes at him. Because they won’t stain (briefest of pauses) the carpet.” — Austin
I’m still laughing about this. He was comedy gold for a whole game and then still had it in him to bust that out… man. I’ve tried a couple of times to write that quote up and I can’t quite capture the absolutely perfect rhythm that joke had, and he wasn’t even reaching for it, it was like he’d made this other funny point and then… man.
My big complaint: let Edgar play. If Edgar was game, and he must have been, let him take an inning at third. Before the game, I was hoping secretly that if the game was out of hand they’d let him come in to play the field, and when he came out I was so happy my head almost came apart from smiling so hard. To see Edgar take the field at third… oh, how great was that? And to immediately pull him, to make it sort of an honorary appearance to get another ovation — what? I can’t speak for Edgar, but I felt like I’d been slapped. As if Melvin had said “Hey, Edgar, you’re fine as an attention-getting novelty, but I don’t want to see you actually take a ball out there.”
The team’s down 10-4 in the top of the ninth. They’re barely going to escape losing 100 games this season. If Edgar wanted to play an inning at third in a blowout, why not? If he wasn’t embarassed to be out there, and he obviously wasn’t, should we be embarassed for him?
Even Austin picked up on this.
Austin: What just happened?
Me: They put Edgar in at third and then subbed in Bloomquist for him. You’re going to have a question for me in five seconds, and I’m not going to have a good answer for you.
(so I watch Austin, and I could actually see his brain working… 1,2,3,4 — he starts to speak and his sister (I think) puts her hand over his mouth and tries to wrestle him down, because… well, Austin and I had been making cracks about John Stamos, which is another topic entirely. Austin breaks free at last and says)
Austin: Why would they do that?
Me: I don’t know.
Austin: They should let him play third.
Me: I know.
Austin: This stinks.
I think he’s going to be officially endorsed by the U.S.S. Mariner this off-season, but that’s just a hunch.
So to my minor complaint: look, it’s Edgar’s night. I don’t like Bud Selig, and I didn’t boo him. I’ve been greatly disappointed by Gary Locke as governor, and I bit my tongue. For Edgar’s sake, would it have been that hard not to boo people, out of respect for the occasion?
Edgar Martinez night
I was so happy to see Edgar get his due. On the ceremony itself, I thought it was kind and well-done, and Edgar’s speech was great. Thanks, Edgar.
I particularly thought it was great that so many people showed up — announced attendance was 45,817 making for two nights of packed, enthusiastic crowds. The game was pretty quick (especially considering the score and pitchers used) and it seemed like almost everyone stuck around, even though the ceremony ran a little long for a lot of people with kids (or whatever — four hours is a lot of time in a seat).
I was glad to find I was in such good company in appreciating everything Edgar’s done.
Edgar
#11 in your scorebooks, #1 in our hearts.
Thanks Edgar.
MLB
Right now, the Dodgers and Giants are playing for the NL West. The A’s and Angels are playing for the AL West. These are two of the most exciting games of the year, classic duels between rivals with divisional crowns and playoff births on the line.
I couldn’t watch either of these games no matter how hard I tried. They’re blacked out on MLB.tv because Fox has national Saturday broadcast rights. Of course, my local Fox channel is showing the news. At some point, they’ll follow with Cops, and maybe a re-run of Seinfeld or two. I could go to the local sports bar, who won’t be able to show the games. I could go to a friends house who has MLB Extra Innings, but you won’t get the games there either.
Major League Baseball has made sure that everyone living in the eastern time zone can’t watch the two most exciting games of the year. Well done, boys. Great way to build your product.
Game thread, Rangers at Mariners, 10/2
Edgar Day! Festivities are scheduled for 10m after the game. What a beautiful day for the game, as the baseball gods again smile down on Seattle.
See you there.
On the significance of this record
Some quick and dirty comparisons.
Sisler hit .407 in 631 at-bats to get to 257 hits.
As of press time, Ichiro is hitting .373 in 694 AB to get his 259 hits.
In 1920, in the AL, the average hitter put up a .284/.343/.387 line. Today it’s .270/.338/.433.
Using Clay Davenport’s historical translations to compare the two, Sisler’s batting average translates to a .372 and he comes out with 241 hits over the course of his 1920 season. Ichiro’s translated stats so far for the 2004 season have his batting average at .388 (and only 264 hits).
If you want to make an argument that Sisler was the more valuable hitter overall, whatever. To me it’s sort of besides the point, which is that Ichiro is an amazing hitter, even as he might lack the power, say, of Sisler.
Is the record important? Like every record, it depends on the beholder. I could personally care less about who hit the most home runs in a 17-game span, but I’m interested in 162-game spans, as long as they coincide with the start and finish of a season.
Acknowledging Ichiro’s great accomplishment while knocking down the accomplishment itself is the kind of back-handed compliment that makes me crazy. We for better or worse count certain stats in baseball, and we order them to some degree — batting for an average higher than .400, home runs, RBI is frequently mentioned when a good offense seems like it might produce a hitter to challenge Hack Wilson — and we pay attention to those who might challenge them.
Part of Ichiro’s problem is that he came up on Sisler and blackjacked him (no doubt apologizing before hand at some length) when no one was looking. This isn’t a record that anyone’s approached in years. Because baseball hitters have changed and the game itself doesn’t produce the kind of high-average hitters to challenge it, we don’t see the kind of speculation and press coverage of it. There wasn’t the kind of photo-genic Sosa v McGwire race, followed by Bonds a couple of years later. Sisler isn’t known in the way that Ted Williams is (though Sisler’s one of the best first basemen ever), so the season hits record doesn’t have as much modern historical ooomph as hitting .400 does.
But so be it. Ichiro has reached and passed a mark for hitting excellence which no one has approached besides Ichiro has challenged since 2000, when Darin Erstad (no, really) had 240. This record is not cheap, or easily achieved, as some might have you believe. It has proven one of the most expensive and difficult in baseball history, and whether or not you want to nitpick at Ichiro’s game, you have to applaud this achievement.
More detailed game report, 10/1
This was the first game in months I’ve gone to with a buzz. New people on the bus who didn’t know what stop to get off at, but happily talking about Ichiro. Occidental packed with people. The Pyramid beer garden filled to the ropes again. It felt like heading into a game last year, when the team was still competing.
And people seemed to sense it and feed off it, too. People were grinning at people they didn’t know — “Ichiro?” “Yup. I’ve only been to a couple games this year, but—” “Yeah.”
I’ve wondered if the Seahawks are going to drain season ticket dollars off the Mariners, and if a competitive football team across the street would be good or bad for the team. I don’t think Seattle’s going to give up on baseball, even after a season like this. Ichiro! didn’t see that much in the way of interested crowds as he pursued this record. That’s not unusual, even if it is dumb. There were only what, fourteen people in Milwaukee when Bonds pursued his #700 home run?
To return home to try and break the record and go from a road game in Oakland to this must have been one of the more dramatic turn-arounds for the team this season. While I mentioned there seemed to be a huge number of casual returning fans, there were a huge number of serious fans (like me) who weren’t just happy to have a reason their interest in baseball wasn’t a waste, but also had a wary glance every once in a while at their watches — I’m not going to miss the first pitch, am I? I’m not going to have to give some more time at the gates, with more people here, and it’ll take longer to get to my seats — hours ahead of game time.
A game like this, here? When the bus stopped in the awful traffic on I-90 yesterday, I was seriously making plans to get out and go on foot if it came to that. I know where the path is, I’ve biked it, I’m in shape, it’s not thaaaat far… I wasn’t going to miss it.
I had a chance to go to a World Series game (Angels v Giants) at the last, last minute, and couldn’t swing a flight down. I almost drove down, knowing my chances of making it were slim, because it was worth gambling. But I didn’t, and even knowing the odds were terrible, I wonder if I shouldn’t have just gone for it.
The ovations for Ichiro were tremendous. It’s never been as loud as it was in the Kingdome, in the playoffs, but this was not only quieter, but more… respectful, insistent. You can carry on with the game, but we’re going to keep cheering for a while. We’re here for history, and we have time on our hands.
First hit: there’s almost a gasp, silence of breath for cheering, claps paused in mid air, and then as we see it’s clearly a hit over Blalock’s head — pandefuckingmonium. At first, Ichiro’s expression hadn’t changed at all. I love that about Ichiro, the level-headed stone-hearted killer personality:
Now I hitch up the sleeve of my jersey, which is the last thing I do before I get a hit off you.
I note that you have attempted to go to third on a single hit directly to me. You will find this decision unwise.
And yet I feel like we’ve missed out a bit, on the giddy, grinning Ichiro, and rarely get to see that side of him.
The Texas guys on the rail don’t applaud or react at all, either. They’re Showalter-coached, remember, there’s probably a $500 fine for applauding a good play by the other team.
Second hit: craziness. Teixeira shakes Ichiro’s hand, and the M’s come out from the dugout to swarm him, hug him, tossle his hair, slap him on the head, shake his hand. And it looks, from my seat, like he’s even grinning. This takes minutes, during which Drese occassionally windmills his arm, shrugs, walks around. Everyone’s still cheering for Ichiro, who walks alone over to the Commissioner’s box, where he bows, says something to Sisler’s kids and grandkids, steps back, bows again, and heads to first. Stadium’s still standing and cheering.
I had worried, and been afraid to say anything for fear it would come true, that the M’s would do something. They’d have Bavasi or Lincoln trot out on the field and hand him some novelty plaque, or something. I hate stopping the game for ceremonies, it’s just… I don’t know how to put this without sounding like I’m a crotchety old man, but the game is the game. Achievements stand for themselves, and are celebrated in the reaction of those present however they’re able — shaking his hand for Teixeira, tossling his hair if you’ve come out of the dugout, applauding until your hands are pink and raw if you’re in the stands — don’t drag out a podium and make it a production.
Ichiro’s gesture, though, was so kind and respectful that it honored baseball.
That’s all I have to say about it.
Ichiro comes back to first and between second-and-third, three Rangers stand in a line — Blalock, Michael Young, Ernie Young, I think — and tip their caps to Ichiro. He returns the gesture, and they trot to their positions. Also cool.
Then on base, his teammates in the dugout, Rangers in position, Drese trying to keep warm tossing a pitch occasionally, the applause goes on. Ichiro tips his helmet to acknowledge the crowd, still cheering for him, clapping. Once, twice, and now he looks like he’s a little embarassed, and I half-expect him to do the football down-with-the-noise arm flapping gesture. They announce Winn, and it’s not until we’re two pitches into his at-bat that we’ve returned to the game in any real sense.
Amazing.
On Morgan being stupid
Some people have pointed me to Joe Morgan’s latest inanity, where he advocates keeping a different rule book for different season lengths. Which, I suppose, means that we should keep a near-infinite number of rule books, because some teams have games rained out and others don’t. Some years are shortened because of labor problems, or whatever. This is just dumb. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Dante Bichette holds the record for games played in a 117-game season (with 116).
If we buy into the basic argument here — that different eras should have their own records — we have to get into ridiculous distinctions, like “He had the highest on-base percentage in a year where the average ERA was whatever.”
Baseball changes. Seasons are longer, and travel is both harder and easier than it was then. The equipment is much different. The way the game is played is much different.
Records are records. Ichiro has the most hits of any player in a single season.