MOMENTS, MEMORIES and MADNESS with STEVE CAMERON: Sometimes you just have to tell your analytics to shut up
Apologies to all you Dodger fans.
Yeah, it’s party time in SoCal, with the Lakers and Dodgers now on top of their respective kingdoms.
I’d like to be enjoying the Dodgers’ great run through the playoffs — I would, honestly, because it was terrific — but my memory of the World Series finale will always be clouded.
See…
I was a pitcher, all of my younger life, and all I can summon in my head right now is Blake Snell, Tampa Bay’s former Cy Young winner, cursing aloud at the universe as he was unceremoniously yanked from Game 6.
Snell made no secret of his anger at manager Kevin Cash, who literally leaped out of the dugout to get out there and banish his ace after Snell had allowed a soft single to L.A.’s Austin Barnes — the No. 9 hitter — with one out in the sixth inning, and a 1-0 lead.
It might have been the worst piece of faulty logic in Series history.
EVER!
TAMPA promptly surrendered its lead within two batters.
Mookie Betts doubled, the game was tied on a wild pitch, and the eventual winning run scored on a ground ball to first.
Bang.
Just like that, all Snell’s efforts — he’d struck out nine of the 18 batters he faced and didn’t look a bit like he was wearied from the effort — went for naught.
As a pitcher, I would have gone berserk in Snell’s spot.
No doubt he was removed because Tampa Bay does everything according to its analytics models, but…
Damn!
Sometimes you have to use your eyes.
With that precarious 1-0 lead and plenty of outstanding Dodgers relievers waiting to shut things down, the Rays’ only chance to win the game was to ride Snell as far as he could go.
Apparently, Tampa’s models advise against facing a good opposing order the third time through — which Snell would have been asked to do if he’d stayed out there with a runner on first and Betts coming up.
But as Snell said: “So what? Third time, they adjust, and then I adjust.”
Can I just repeat that this guy won a Cy Young Award, which isn’t given out for the best pitcher going 5 1/3 innings?
NOW, I’M not saying that the Rays would have won the Series if they’d stuck with Snell in that spot.
The Dodgers had a better lineup, and Walker Buhler ready to pitch Game 7, if needed.
But I WILL say that Tampa’s only chance was to let Snell win Game 6 with his magic left arm.
Cash’s removal of his ace reminded me immediately of two things — one just a year old, and one way back when I was pitching in a Babe Ruth League game (ages 13-15).
The recent explosion came from Trevor Bauer, who led the National League with a 1.73 ERA with Cincinnati this season.
Bauer was removed from a game in Kansas City during the 2019 season — he was pitching for Cleveland — and in an act of defiance, he heaved the baseball over the center field fence.
The Indians unloaded him a day later.
No, it wasn’t the most professional thing to do (which Bauer later admitted), but I knew exactly how he felt.
MY OWN flare-ups became fairly well-known in the area where I played youth league sports.
The one I hear about from friends from time to time occurred in a 3-2 game, as I was nursing a lead with the usual mixture of guile and precision.
A couple of runners got on base in the sixth inning (of a seven-inning game), and the next batter was this huge, bruising catcher who had hit me like a tambourine for at least two solid years.
Our coach came out to the mound, presumably to take me out rather face this beast, but I argued vehemently that there was a base open, and a left-handed hitter was due up after this guy who regularly thrashed me.
Now, in those days, I could get out ANY left-handed hitter. I had an array of pitches for it, including a couple of sidearm curveballs that started out behind the batter’s neck.
No way THAT guy would keep the inning alive.
The coach liked me, sort of, but always wondered if I might start a riot or argue with an umpire, or whatever.
Still, he bought my logic: Put the right-handed thumper on base and just get the next guy.
Fair enough.
However, the coach had no sooner returned to the dugout than I did as planned.
Instead of walking the big guy intentionally, I just hit him in the back with my first pitch.
The kid wasn’t amused — I had good control, so the plunking was clearly done on purpose — but I thought: “Why not let him believe I’m crazy? It might help next time.”
OUR COACH started back to the mound, but that would have meant I was out of the game, so I ran to meet him around the foul line.
“It’s no problem,” I insisted, “I’ll have this inning over in two pitches.”
And I did, with a weak one-hopper back to the mound.
For some reason, I thought of that scenario when Tampa’s Kevin Cash went to remove Blake Snell — simply because some mysterious analytics suggested he shouldn’t be allowed to face the Dodgers order a third time.
What incredible nonsense!
Snell was dealing.
I promise you Betts and Corey Seager, the next two hitters, were thrilled with the Tampa Bay strategy.
Sometimes, it’s NOT a game of chess.
Tampa’s only chance to win Game 6 was to let Snell go for it.
Cash had no one better in the pen, as we quickly discovered.
And hey, if it was impossible to keep Betts from getting an extra-base hit…
Plunk him.
It’s not the worst plan in the world.
That whole idea served me well more than once, and believe me, I didn’t have Snell’s arsenal to get out of trouble.
Blake, I feel for you, pal.
I’ve been there.
But back in the day, I think maybe everyone was more afraid of me than the result of the game.
Which was fine.
You win any way you can.
Email: scameron@cdapress.com
Steve Cameron’s “Cheap Seats” columns appear in The Press on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. “Moments, Memories and Madness,” his reminiscences from several decades as a sports journalist, runs each Sunday.
Steve also writes Zags Tracker, a commentary on Gonzaga basketball, once per month during the offseason.
