Sunday, March 22, 2026

Someone Else's Drunken Nightmare (2019)

Because I watched a fair amount of new TV (on bootlegged DVDs--catching up with the world can only be done in micro-steps with me) this year, I thought for sure I had seen fewer new films than normal. It felt like I’d sometimes go weeks without getting out to the movies. Evidently not--saw the same 40 or so I see every year.

I counted anything as new that a) had an official release date of no earlier than October 2017 on IMDB, and b) where I was pretty sure that it didn’t show up in Toronto until 2018 (TIFF screenings aside, because who cares?).

My Top 10:

1. Barbara Rubin and the Exploding NY Underground
2. Design Canada
3. The King
4. Mid90s
5. United Skates
6. If Beale Street Could Talk
7. First Reformed
8. BlacKkKlansman
9. Studio 54
10. Battle of the Sexes/Vice

Not a great year. Past the top two or three, I’m not sure if anything there would make my list in a good year--I liked them all to one degree or another, but often it’s a film that either falls into the fine-but-somewhat-overrated category (First Reformed) or gets a low-expectations/not-bad-at-all bump (the tie at #10 especially). The only thing that actually caught me by surprise--although the title certainly caught my attention--was Jonah Hill’s Mid90s. I quite liked it; many wouldn’t. I still haven’t seen Roma. Finding out that it’s set in the early ‘70s (which I much preferred to the mid-‘90s, even though I was pretty happy then, too) guarantees that I will. And yes, I realize Badfinger and Todd Rundgren won’t be on the soundtrack.

Some rough groupings for the rest (based on memory, because it’s too much work to check my ILX ratings):

Okay documentaries: The Fourth Estate, Mr. Fish: Cartooning from Deep End, Here to Be Heard: The Story of the Slits, The Beatles, Hippies and Hells Angels: Inside the Crazy World Of AppleRBGFilmworkerWon’t You Be My Neighbor?My Generation, Matangi/Maya/M.I.A.,  Divide and Conquer: The Story of Roger Ailes, Maria by Callas*

Okay Not-Documentaries: Unsane, Paterno, A Quiet Place, Eighth Grade (didn’t like it nearly as much as everyone else), Shock and Awe, A Simple Favor, Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Not-Okay Documentary: Fahrenheit 11/9 (embarrassing in a couple of places, even for Moore)

A Documentary Would Have Been Better: Borg Vs. McEnroe, Nico, 1988

Fashion (I Want to Understand...): The Gospel According to Andre, McQueen, Always at the Carlyle (sort of counts--rich people dressed in expensive clothes)

What the Fuck Did I Just See?: You Were Never Really Here, Sorry to Bother You (both worth puzzling over)

Rogue Politicians: Chappaquiddick, The Front Runner (the better of the two)

Diverting Junk: Red Sparrow

Waste of Time: Ocean’s Eight, White Boy Rick, The Girl in the Spider’s Web

Drawing a Blank: Flower

I just found out today (after googling the title + Toronto) that the film I most wanted to see this year, Frederick Wiseman’s Monrovia, Indiana, screened for three nights at the Bloor just before Halloween. I can’t believe I missed that--I keep close tabs on the Bloor schedule. The only explanation I can come up with is that I didn’t know about the film yet and the nondescript title slipped by me. I’m a little heartsick about this, knowing how iffy a second chance will be.

*Saw this very late in the year; I didn't post about it in ILX's "last (x) movies" thread, so I missed it here, too. Could probably have included it my Top 10.

Voice of Harold (2018)

Looks like I last did a Hall of Fame round-up here in 2010 (my second on this site). The idea was to do one every 10 years or so...eight is close enough. If I end up doing another one after this, well, the idea that I’ll still be engaged enough to care (and healthy enough to write coherently) in 2025 or thereabouts, that’d be a bit of a surprise from this vantage point.

Quick rundown of my predictions last time:

1. Cloudy PED associations: Bagwell, Thome, I-Rod. I hedged a bit, but “short of any revelations still to come, all three of these guys will be inducted.” As they have been.

2. Guys I identified as a 100% lock: Maddux, Johnson, Rivera, Piazza*, Alomar, Jeter, Griffey. Those were easy--five are in, Rivera goes in this year, Jeter next year.

3. A group of players I said were sure things but possibly second- or third-ballot inductions: Pedro, Glavine, Thomas, Biggio, Chipper, Guerrero. All six are in.

4. Helton, Larkin: Larkin was inducted in 2012. Helton goes onto the ballot for the first time this year; the Colorado factor still hasn’t had a clean test case (Walker’s been a partial test case, complicated further by the era he played in), so I’m still not sure what’ll happen.

5. Pujols, Ichiro: Said they were locks, just as their careers were about to rapidly head south. Nothing’s changed--first-ballot picks. Pujols’ career has followed a path similar to Frank Thomas’s, although Thomas was never quite as great as Pujols in his prime, nor was he ever as bad as Pujols has been the last two or three seasons.

6. John Smoltz, Trevor Hoffman: I predicted they’d go in and they have.

7. Roy Halladay, Johan Santana, CC Sabathia, Tim Lincecum: “One for sure, maybe two.” Halladay will go in this year (and, I think, would have easily done so with or without the plane crash). More on CC later.

8. Miguel Cabrera, Joe Mauer. “Today, on track to be 100% locks. But they’re both 27; cf., Juan Gonzalez.” Or cf. Joe Mauer (more later).

I also tacked on a group of longshot projections, without committing to any of them, and many of whom I’ll revisit below. All in all, I got all of the easy stuff right. It’s those longshots that are much harder--of the eight I mentioned, the only one that panned out, Robinson Cano, got nabbed for PEDs, and now even he won’t go in for the foreseeable future. And I didn’t mention David Ortiz anywhere, whose improbable late-career surge moves him into the sure-thing category, even with the twin obstacles of having been a career DH with a trace of PED-association.

-------------------

Some new groupings for 2018 (active players only).

100% Locks: Pujols, Cabrera, Beltre, Verlander, Kershaw, Trout, Scherzer, Votto. With players like Kershaw and Trout, people always add “provided their career doesn’t end tomorrow.” You don’t need to add that: if their careers were to end tomorrow, they’d be first-ballot picks regardless. There’s a greater emphasis on peak value now, and if anything, all that closing the books would do would be to eliminate the risk of a prolonged decade of mediocrity (cf., Albert Pujols; Cabrera may finish up that way too). They’d still make it if that were to improbably happen, but it’s a moot point--they’re both in already.

Verlander was starting to look a bit shaky three years ago, but after a solid 2016 season, and then all that’s happened to him with the Astros, he’s in the clear now. With the way he’s pitching, and with the Astros embarking on what looks like a mini-dynasty, he may even end up with 250+ wins. (I say that in passing--wins, as everyone knows, are no longer a big deal, even on a HOF resume.) Scherzer’s got three Cy Youngs (they’re still a big deal), he’ll finish second this year, and he gives no indication of slowing down at 33; even better, I stand to win $40 if he’s inducted (and lose $100 if he isn’t--yes, I actually gave odds on that bet two years ago). Beltre was an underappreciated sabermetric favourite for years; he still is, and he’s additionally added old-school benchmarks (3,000 hits the biggest) and an all-around good-guy reputation to his credentials. And by the time Votto gets on the ballot, a more sabermetric voting body will probably make him a first-ballot, 90-95% pick.

Good bets: Altuve, Stanton, Betts, Sale, Machado, Lindor, Goldschmidt, Posey. The careers here range from Lindor, who just finished his fourth year, to Posey, about to start his 11th. But I’ve grouped them together because I think they’re all good bets--not locks by any means, especially Lindor, but putting together recognizably HOF-type careers: awards (Betts’ MVP this year will make four for the group; Sale hasn’t yet won a Cy Young, and probably won’t win this year because of the injury, but this will be his seventh consecutive year in the top six), black ink, postseason exposure, impressive numbers both traditional and sabermetric, and, with at least five of them, face-of-the-franchise status. Altuve’s got a good jump on 3,000 hits, Stanton on 600 HR. Machado may finish his career as the best third baseman since Schmidt and Brett: he's still only 25 (he came up at 19 and was a regular at 20), and among third baseman, he trails only Eddie Matthews in career WAR for his age. (Not a really a fair comparison, I know--Schmidt and Boggs were just getting started at 25.) He's also about to sign for a quarter of a billion dollars with someone; hopefully he remains the same player after he cashes in. Goldschmidt still doesn’t get a lot of attention, but he’s a perennial MVP candidate and, just rounding 30, he’s hanging around the .300/.400/.500 career slash line, which still means something. Posey will have to keep going for a few more seasons, but unless you think there’ll be zero active catchers inducted, he’s the most obvious consensus pick.

Building a case: Rizzo, Arenado, Freeman, Bryant. You could, I suppose, move Arenado into the good-bets group, but the Colorado-factor is again an issue (his home/road splits are as drastic as they were for Dante Bichette or Vinny Castilla)--he does have defense going for him. Freeman’s a lesser version of Goldschmidt, but, his injury last year aside, he’s about as consistent as it gets. (Both he and Goldschmidt are missing those eye-popping years one associates with HOF first-baseman, though.) The two Cubs guys...have a chance.

Hard to say: Harper, Kluber, Kimbrel, Bumgarner, Sabathia, Molina, Correa. Harper is the game’s most mercurial mystery. In 2015 he had a Trout-like 10-WAR season, and it looked like the two of them would have the top of the mountain to themselves for the next few years; since then, he’s had one year that was shaping up as a worthy encore until he got hurt, and another two that were pretty mediocre (a lot of walks, a few home runs, and not much else). Kluber got such a late start--he didn’t have his first great season until he was 28--but wow, has he ever made up for lost time: two Cy Youngs, a 3rd- and a 9th-place finish, and he’ll probably finish 3rd or 4th this year. (He is developing something of a David Price/Clayton Kershaw-problem in the postseason.) I don’t know of any historical precedent for a non-knuckleball pitcher getting such a late start, so we’ll have to see how long he can remain dominant; there’s not a big margin of error for him. (Josh Donaldson was in a comparable place heading into the 2018 season, but I think he just used up his margin of error.) Kimbrel has one huge obstacle to overcome: the widespread feeling that Mariano Rivera is now the standard for HOF closers, which is another way of saying that--even though Trevor Hoffman was kind of grandfathered in (to the dismay of many; not me)--no more closers should go in. Kimbrel’s career line at this point is so imposing--a career ERA of 1.91, 14.7 K/9, 4.8 H/9, 333 saves at age 30; saves have been more or less discredited, and ERA and H/9 are fading, but these things don’t disappear overnight--he’s going to put that to the test if he can keep going for another six or seven years. Actually, he has a couple of other obstacles, too: he doesn’t have the postseason résumé that Rivera had (no one does), and there are two other closers, Kenley Jansen and Aroldis Chapman, whose career boxes aren’t all that dissimilar to his. If you believe that one of them, at most, will go in, then Kimbrel still has to separate himself some more from the other two. Bumgarner, with a huge assist from his World Series heroics, looked like a very good bet after the 2014 season, but since then he’s had a penchant for strange, self-induced injuries that have cost him big chunks of two seasons; he’s still pitching well, but he may need an off-season lifestyle coach. I mentioned on a message-board last week that Sabathia might be the last Jack Morris-type starter to go into the HOF--workhorse, relatively high ERA, lots of wins--but a couple of people countered that there’s a sabermetric case for him too. I don’t know...he does sit at 62.2 WAR on Baseball Reference, but that’s largely a function of that workhorse quality about him. He’s never had a season over 7.0, and he’s only been in the 6.0-7.0 range three times; I suggested he was a compiler of a different kind, a WAR compiler, with a lot of 3.0-5.0 seasons. If he goes in, I’m fine with that, but then I never found any reason to get all apoplectic about Morris’s induction, either (even though I rationally knew he didn’t belong). Yadier Molina’s HOF case was a big topic of conversation two or three years ago; I don’t see him going in myself, but he still has his advocates. Correa’s probably too young for this group, but after last year’s MVP-type season cut short by an injury, and then another injury and a big step back this year, the hard-to-say part very much applies.

Starters: Lester, Hamels, Greinke, David Price. The most interesting group of all to me--four pitchers, three of them coming off their age-34 seasons, the other one 32, who aren’t badly positioned, Greinke especially, even though intuitively no one really views Lester or Hamels as a HOF pitcher (Greinke and Price, maybe). The problem with Greinke--or at least I think it’s a problem--is that so much of his career value resides in two spectacular seasons; at the moment, 2009 (10.4) and 2015 (9.1) account for almost a third of the 61.5 WAR for his career. But that percentage drops with every good season, and he’s had five good-to-great ones out of six since switching leagues. I think two or three more are all he needs. Lester and Hamels are on shakier ground (I pegged Lester at about 5% in the Sabathia post mentioned earlier). Lester sits at 177-98, 3.50 ERA, and 44.6 WAR for his career; Hamels, 156-114, 3.40, 55.4. Both have been good in the post-season (Hamels was the 2008 Series MVP), both are pitching for the Cubs right now; Hamels has the edge, but Lester’s coming off the better season. For either one to have a realistic chance, I think you’re looking at five more solid seasons at least, but they’re not out of the running yet. Price has endured a bit of a nightmare since arriving in Boston, but in two of the three seasons he’s actually pitched well, and he managed to go 17-9 in the one where he didn’t, 2016. So he’s made some incremental progress. Something I read a couple of months ago clued me into his biggest problem in Boston, which is probably not race--Ortiz and Betts are loved in Boston--and probably not even that interview he gave where he dumped on Dennis Eckersley; it’s that the Yankees have just killed him the last three years. His post-season travails remain a mystery. (I’m looking at two Google headlines right now in advance of the LCS: one says “Alex Cora gives David Price a chance he does not deserve,” the other “Evidence bears out Cora’s trust in Price for G2.”) In any event, he’s now 143-75 for his career, with a 3.25 ERA, 38.2 WAR, one Cy Young, three second-place finishes, and another two Top-10s (with possibly a third on the way). He’s definitely light on WAR--by the time he goes on the ballot, I doubt a starting pitcher under 60 will even have a chance.

Purgatory: Cano, Braun. Cano was pretty much a lock before his suspension, the 7th-greatest second baseman ever according to Jay Jaffe’s JAWs metric; all that awaits him now is the 1st-Stupidest Player of the Post-Sammy-Sosa-Era Award. With Braun, you’ve basically got a chicken-and-the-egg question: will he not make the HOF because a) he stopped being a great player at age 29, b) because he was sus- pended for PEDs, or c) because he stopped being a great player because the drugs were taken away from him at age 29? I think that’s a chicken-and-egg question...sort of, anyway. He’s not going in. 

Probably not: Mauer, Felix, Longoria, Pedroia. I still come across Joe Mauer advocacy, but to me he’s basically Andruw Jones, masked somewhat by incremental yearly gains in his career WAR (up to 55.1--he may not make it to 60.0) and the fact that he’s still a regular first baseman/DH who periodically shows flashes of the great player he was before he hit 30 (he was leading the league in hitting for a few days in April this year, I think). Felix’s rapid decline the past four seasons (his ERA has climbed from 2.14 to 3.53, 3.82, 4.36, and 5.55) has all but finished him, barring a sudden turnaround; his career numbers are actually better than Lester’s or Hamels’, but he ended 2018 as a middle reliever. Longoria maybe belongs in the hard-to-say group. His defense remains strong, he’s still only 32, and his last two years have been okay, not disastrous (.250, around 20 HR--decent production at third). But he needs to climb back somewhere close to where he was in his heyday, and then sustain that for another five years at least--unlikely. Pedroia was basically out of commission for the entirety of the 2018 season, and his team moved on without him. I’m not sure if he has a job next year. (At the exact moment I type those words, Brock Holt--one of Pedroia’s three replacements this year--is finishing off the first-ever post-season cycle.)

Barely started: Acuna, Soto, Albies. A couple of the most promising rookie seasons ever (Acuna and Soto have a five-year jump on what Judge did last year), and a second-year-guy, Albies, who’s a 21-year-old middle infielder with 24 HR and 69 XBH this year. Long way to go, but I bet at least one of them will be around for the long haul.

As always, there are other names I could slot somewhere up there, usually in the hard-to-say category: Yelich (all of a sudden), Judge, Bellinger, Ohtani, Snell, Ramirez, etc. The one thing that links them all is what’s commonly referred to as recency bias. If I revisit this again, one or two of them will merit a closer look, as will Bartolo Colon at 52, or 55, or however old he’ll be by then.

Everything above more or less makes sense to me. Stevie Nicks, solo artist, on the Rock and Roll HOF ballot, that makes no sense at all.

*I guess I didn't know at the time that Piazza would also be dogged by cloudy PED associations. Took him four years to get in--absent the suspicion, he would have been a first-ballot, 90%+ guy easy.

I Think We're Maybe Over-Thinking This (2018)

My favourite films last year:

1. 20th Century Women
2. The Vietnam War
3. Ex Libris
4. Citizen Jane
5. Dawson City: Frozen Time
6. The Jazz Loft According to W. Eugene Smith
7. Certain Women
8. The B-Side: Elsa Dorfman's Portrait Photography
9. Beatriz at Dinner
10. California Typewriter

First some math, in the style of Steven Rubio and courtesy ILX’s “Last (x) movies you saw” thread, my personal cloud for keeping track of everything I see.

Starting with a post on January 21, 2017--where I listed and rated the last 10 films I’d seen; I’m sure I saw all them within a three-week window, so they all fall under 2017 viewing--I watched about 150 films last year. I’ll count 41 of them as new--meaning festival screenings mean nothing to me, ditto Christmas-week openings to qualify for Academy Awards; it’s when the film gets a regular opening that matters--and I’ll include Twin Peaks. In addition to the 10 listed above:

Personal Shopper, The Founder, Get Out, David Lynch: The Art Life, Long Strange Trip, Nobody Speak: Hulk Hogan, Gawker and Trials of a Free Press, Chasing Trane: The John Coltrane Documentary, Mansfield 66/67, The Fabulous Alan Carr, The Beguiled, Get Me Roger Stone, Baby Driver, Lady Macbeth, Mother!, My Cousin Rachel, Julian Schnabel: A Private Portrait, Lucky, LBJ, The Meyerowitz Stories, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, It, The Florida Project, The Circle, Mark Felt, Detroit, Columbus, My Friend Dahmer, The Post, All the Money in the World, Phantom Thread, Twin Peaks: The Return, I, Tonya.

A few of these (the last six, specifically) I didn’t catch up to until 2018, after I’d drawn up my Top 10. None of them would have made it on to the list. Phantom Thread: Lewis is very good, but when a kinetically gifted director makes a fussy, high-minded masterpiece that inspires people to trip all over each other somberly praising its subtlety--see also The Age of Innocence, Gosford Park, and half the Spielberg films since E.T.--I’m reflexively wary. I feel like I’ve seen it twice: not sure there was anything in the film I didn’t already glean from the trailer. (The kinetic gifts of mid-'70s Altman were different than those of the other two--words bounced all over the place, not the camera.)

The other two big critical hits that left me cold were Get Out and Baby Driver. I liked the conception of the first but found it eventually settled into the kind of gross horror-film frenzy I just don’t enjoy anymore. Baby Driver was worse than that. (I’m not counting Mother! as a big critical hit, since half the people who reviewed it seemed to hate it as much as I did.)

I’ve been holding off a few months on a second viewing of 20th Century Women. I wrote a little bit about it on the music-movie blog I keep with Scott Woods, and I think I’ve posted this clip a half- dozen times on Facebook and ILX.

An Endless Dark (2018)

2017 YEAR-END BALLOT

1. “Bobby,” Alex G: I feel like there’s some calamitous, life-altering story being told here, but I’m only able to make out a few phrases here and there: “I’ll burn them for you/If you want me to” sounds especially dire. (I believe he’s singing about some photographs.) I won’t lie and say this sounds like some lost hillbilly ballad from 1923 that’s been unearthed and thrown into the world; I’m aware of the artifice, and truthfully I think there’s a part of me that likes to express my complete indifference to whatever counts as real country music today by annually listing one or two fake versions. Beautiful and sad in any event. I also like to mull over the singer’s empathetic plea that “I know you--I do, I do,” how it inverts Naughty by Nature’s “Yeah, you know me.” The world being what it is, I would have expected that path from me to you to move in the opposite direction. (I’ve never listed two songs by the same artist on a year-end list, otherwise “Sportstar” would be here too.)

2. “Location,” Playboi Carti: I was ahead of the hip-hop curve for maybe 10 minutes in 1986--I was obsessively listening to and loving the first Schoolly-D album, and I interviewed the Beastie Boys a few months before Licensed to Ill came out. (Even then, I’m quite sure there was lots happening out of view that wouldn’t reach the world for a couple of years.) For almost all of my ballot-compiling lifetime I’ve been lagging behind, though, and the past few years I’ve been as out of the hip-hop loop as you can be. But I still connect occasionally--and when I do it’s usually something like “Location,” where I hear the same kind of faraway melancholy that I get from “Bobby” or most anything else that reaches me nowadays.

3. “Stay the Course,” Feelies, and 8. “Apoptosis,” Tall Friend: Tall Friend take a lo-fi (is that term still in use? should I be calling it something else?) fragment and, by adding a bit of extraneous backwards tape at the end, stretch it to two minutes; the Feelies have stretched their lo-fi fragment into five or six albums spread over 30 years. I do fall for such stuff.

4. “Continental Breakfast,” Courtney Barnett and Kurt Vile: I somehow didn’t get the Kurt & Courtney joke until it was spelled out for me online. I must be easily amused--pretty good. (I had to check, but it turns out that Courteney Cox and Kurt Russell indeed made one film together, 2001’s 3000 Miles to Graceland--hope they marketed it accordingly.) I like the vocals here, but I’m really voting for the guitars.

5. “Sixteen,” Diet Cig: “When I was sixteen” is a promising start to a song. (The next line is not “it was a very good year”--for starters it wouldn’t scan well, and for the Diet Cig singer it evidently wasn’t.) When I was sixteen, Reggie Jackson was a Yankee, Jimmy Carter had an approval rating over 50%, 8-tracks were around but on their way out, there were two late-night talk shows (don’t forget Tom Snyder), and I had no trouble sleeping past noon on weekends. From a distance it all looks pretty good; at the time, I don’t think it scanned all that well. My favourite moment in “Sixteen” comes early, a throwaway “Ready?” that’s as perfectly placed as Colin Newman’s “Chorus!” (I think it’s Newman) in “Map Ref. 41° N 93° W.”

6. “No Question,” Waxahatchee: I like most of the album--I keep five songs on my hard drive and could have listed “Silver” instead. (As someone who doesn’t think in terms of albums, this mundane bit of bookkeeping seems worth noting.) There are at least two songs on this list that I wish were longer--“Location” and “Apoptosis”--so I’m heartened by the false ending on this one, and “It sets you free” is a great fade-out mantra. My understanding of what “it” is continues to be partial and intermittent at best.

7. “To the Moon,” Smokepurpp: Flaky and psychedelic like P.M. Dawn (underscored by their name: there was Prince Be and there was Prince, and Prince liked purple, and it all fits together), except it’s 2017, so there are strippers in the video and the lyrics are slurred and indecipherable: “Blobble bibble wobble/Wibble hibble hobble/She won’t fuck me, she won’t suck me/Jibble nibble nobble.” Many bonus points for making me think of Jackie Gleason (said video also features a lot of astronaut footage; would have been nice instead to see three minutes of Ralph Kramden bang-zooming a very bored and unimpressed Alice), like “Madison Time,” “Mambo No. 5,” and the Vengaboys’ “We Like to Party!”

9. “Snow,” Angus & Julia Stone: Or maybe it’s “Angus & Julia Stone” by Snow, how should I know? This joins “Continental Breakfast” as my second song involving Australians this year, thus breaking a strict one-Australian-per-Top-10 rule I’ve religiously observed since 1985--nothing personal, I just don’t like or trust Australians. I’d never heard this until a friend who knows my tiny musical universe well recommended it a couple of weeks ago. Very pretty, kind of folkie, with an omnivorous, Beat-like declaration by the guy singer that “I can get fucked up on absolutely anything.”

10. “In Undertow,” Alvvays: They’re a tad repetitive over the course of a full album, but this has some of what made “Archie, Marry Me” so swoon-worthy.

I’m usually able to connect whatever I vote for in a given year to Events Out There--and if such connections aren’t clear, I just fabricate them--but this year, nothing. I tuned out early and stayed tuned out.

Disconnect (2017)

Bill James has been running a series all week on the vagaries of pitcher W-L records (not behind the paywall yet, so you can still access it).* Six parts:

What W-L Record Does the Pitcher Deserve?
Fortune and Fame
The Could Be Hall of Famers
Luck, and the Cy Young Award
Lady Luck and the 20-Game Winner
Cleanup

If you think W-L records are a dumb, meaningless relic from another time, don’t bother. (And if you count “Wins suck” as insight, I can even hook you up with a couple of like-minded folk.) But if you know they’re a relic and still find them to be a sometimes interesting, occasionally even useful form of shorthand--like WAR, like FIP, like anything else--then...interesting. James’s contention has always been (or at least has been recently) that W-L records for starting pitchers are often unreliable season to season--sometimes wildly so--but that, over the course of a career, they are generally reliable for most pitchers.

A couple of highlights from James’s research if you don’t want to wade through the whole thing:

He breaks the 63 HOF starters into five groups: 1) 30 inarguable picks where W-L record is irrelevant (e.g., Tom Seaver); 2) Another 17 in the second tier, most of them a little unlucky but who got voted in eventually and are fully deserving (e.g., Bert Blyleven); 3) Three pitchers who benefitted from some other kind of luck besides wins and losses (e.g., Addie Joss--he doesn’t specify what other kind of luck; maybe Joss won the lottery); 4) Four who were a bit lucky with their W-L record and may or may not have made it with average luck (e.g., Juan Marichal); 5) Nine who got in primarily because of W-L luck (Catfish Hunter, Early Wynn, and Bob Lemon being the most recent).

Of the 102 starting pitchers who won the Cy, James believes 72 deserved it or were close enough for a valid argument; 30 got it because of W-L luck. This has gotten better over time: he contends that 52 of the past 60 were deserving.

The bad-luck season that most fascinates me is Dave Stieb’s 1985. It’s not as famous as Felix Hernandez's Cy year, but the disconnect is almost identical: ERA+ 174, WAR 7.1, and 13-12 for Felix, ERA+ 171, WAR 6.9, and 14-13 for Stieb. The really bizarre thing, though, is that whereas Felix was on a terrible team (61-101) that had the league’s worst offense by 100 runs--his W-L record is far from shocking when viewed in the context of the team he played for--the Jays in ’85 had their big breakthrough year, winning 99 games, winning their first divisional title, and finishing fourth in the league in runs scored. The Jays and Stieb were perfectly in sync in 1985; you would intuitively expect that the team’s ace, having a great year and at the end of a four-year run where he was clearly the best pitcher in the league, would have run up one of those ungodly W-L records that almost always won Cy Youngs at the time, 22-3 or something like that.

James calls the ’85 Cy Young a toss-up between Saberhagen, the actual winner, and Stieb; WAR gives it to Saberhagen, 7.3-6.9. With normal luck, James projects that Stieb would have ended up 20-11; he doesn’t go through game logs, but bases that on league-average runs, Pythagorean expectations, and various other adjustments. In trying to figure out how Stieb ended up 14-13, I instead looked at his game logs.

Three salient points:

1) Only one of his 14 wins was cheap; on such a good team, you would think he’d pick up at least two or three cheap wins.

2) In 26 of 36 starts, he only gave up 0, 1, or 2 runs (pitching at least 6 innings); his record in those games was 13-5, with 8 no-decisions.

3) The Jays finished fourth-last in the league that year in save percentage; he might have lost two or three wins that way. (Henke was great, but he didn’t arrive until August; they had Bill Caudill, Jim Acker, and Gary Lavelle closing before that.)

So after three years of being the best starter in the AL and not having a lot to show for it, Stieb was great again in ’85, the team finally caught up with him (they’d been good in ’83 and ’84, too, but not this good), and he somehow ended up 14-13. Bizarre.

I don’t know--if Stieb had actually gotten lucky that year, above and beyond merely normal luck, he might have gone 23-7. Start by adding a couple of cheap wins, games where he gave up three or four runs but pitched deep enough into the game to still get the win. Stieb had four such games in 1985 and lost them all. If you convert two of those losses into wins, he moves to 16-11.  I’m going to assume there were a couple of games where he left with a lead that was blown by the bullpen (I know, I could check this...); if you convert one loss, and give him another win that maybe ended up as a no-decision, he moves to 18-10. Give him back two more of those tough losses, the games where he held the other team to 0, 1, or 2 runs; Stieb is 20-8 now.  Finally, take another two of those no-decisions where he pitched really well and turn them into wins. Final record, 22-8--even better than the “deserved” record of 20-11 James gives him. That’s about where I think he would have ended up with good luck, and that's maybe even on the conservative side. The blown-save tweak may overlap a bit with some of the other adjustments.

I’m positive that 22-8, even 20-11, plus the ERA title would have given Stieb the Cy Young that year. Saberhagen was only in his second year, and WAR wasn’t even in the lab yet. (James had basically laid the foundation for WAR among position players by then, but he hadn’t done as much with pitching.) That one season, reconfigured accordingly, wouldn’t have been enough single-handedly to push Stieb into the HOF, but it would have been a start. Make some similar adjustments to other years, as James does in “Fortune and Fame,” and you never know. He would have at least ended up with a career line closer to what Roy Halladay will (deservedly) go into the HOF with.

Strange, strange season--even stranger than Felix’s 2010.

A complete breakdown of Stieb’s 36 starts:

Starts where he qualified for the win (5+ innings):

0 earned runs – 7 starts
1 earned run – 8 starts
2 earned runs – 11 starts
3 earned runs – 1 start
4 earned runs – 3 starts
5 earned runs – 3 starts
7 earned runs – 1 start

Starts where he didn’t qualify for the win (fewer than 5 innings):

3 earned runs – 2 starts

 

*(Or at least you could in 2017, when I wrote this; Bill James Online was taken down a few years ago, now seems to be back online, but with some articles only accessible to subscribers--which no longer exist. I don't know what' going on.)

I'm Gonna Kick Tomorrow (2017)

When I saw Citizen Jane, the documentary about Jane Jacobs, a few months ago, I probably drifted through a third of it. Just tired, nothing to do with the film. I felt like I needed to see it again, which I was able to do this afternoon at a local rep. Glad I did--there were whole sections I missed the first time.

A couple of points before I get to the real purpose of this post. I see so many documentaries these days that end with a rah-rah call to action. Normally, I’m just not the organizing type, with a kind of ingrained skepticism verging on antipathy about such things. I’ve always felt like the minute you’ve got more than three people trying to accomplish something together, you’re headed for mind-numbing inertia. A big part of this comes from what I first witnessed during the dissolution of Nerve and Graffiti in the late ‘80s, and then again with CKLN a decade ago, where well-intentioned scenarios of how to save the day never amounted to anything. But Citizen Jane almost makes me a believer. Three times Jacobs took on Robert Moses, the imperious New York City developer (the film makes a good match for Best of Enemies, the Vidal-Buckley documentary), and three times, through what Republicans contemptuously called community organizing during Obama’s presidency--and with an assist from some big names in the literary world--she crushed him. Actually inspiring.

And, much less consequential, I laughed at the way the film pulls an American Graffiti in reverse. In Pauline Kael’s original 1973 review, she took George Lucas to task for a postscript that lets you know what happened to the four male principals but completely ignores the (more interesting, in many ways) three females. Citizen Jane gives you a postscript on Jacobs, nothing on Moses. Even as the film’s villain, it is a two-person dynamic on display, and Moses ought to get a few words too.

A couple of years down the road, after I retire, my plan is to sell my house and relocate to somewhere where I can buy something much bigger for considerably less. Right now, I’m focussed on London, Ontario. We’ll see--a sudden slowdown in the housing market may interfere. Anyway, I also want to move because of the issue that Jacobs devoted her life to: the transformation of the city into something very different and much less vibrant than what it once was. With Jacobs, this was rooted in the proliferation of public housing and roadways, the destruction of neighborhoods, and the general disregard of public planners for life on the street. With me, the transformation has more to do with the realities of a changing economy: the two-decade disappearance of the record stores, book stores, and rep houses that used to define Toronto for me, replaced by condos and box stores and sushi restaurants. To be precise: record stores, essentially gone (or so expensive they’re qualitatively something else); book stores, going fast; rep houses, lingering, but also qualitatively something else (they’re more like a repository for newer releases either not suited to the multiplexes, or a month removed from their first run; older films are mixed in occasionally). There’s less and less reason for me to stay--I’d rather have the bigger house.

Something else occurred to me, though, a phenomenon just coming into being when Jacobs died (2006), one whose stranglehold on city life today she couldn’t have foreseen: the sight of person after person walking around with their heads glued to a device, oblivious to everything and everyone around them, living in some alternate universe that could just as well be relocated to Antarctica or Neptune without them even taking notice. It’s pathetic--I get the feeling sometimes that half the people in Toronto haven’t made eye contact with another human being in five years.

People I work with kid me a lot because I don’t have a cell phone. It’s a running joke that I enjoy and even nurture (I recently bought a rotary phone at a garage sale so I could put up a jokey post on Facebook). But--above and beyond the simple fact that I have no earthly need for an iPhone--there’s genuine disgust behind my aversion to them, a disgust that extends, yes, to some of those same people I work with (why I’m posting this here, out of view, rather than something much shorter on Facebook). They’re great people, and on this one narrow point they’re no different than the rest of the world. Nevertheless: whenever I’m sitting in the staff room talking to someone who’s not looking at me because he’s messaging or scrolling through whatever on his cell phone, I just want to reach over, grab it, and smash it into a million pieces. (Punctuated, for flair, by “Oh, I’m sorry--did I break your concentration?”) It is unbelievably, profoundly rude. And that’s what Jacobs’ city streets are more and more being reduced to, invisible backdrops for personal-device time, and ditto for every other restaurant patio and public space you pass.

If Jane Jacobs were to walk around downtown Toronto today, I have to wonder: would she think this wasteland of insularity and isolation even worth saving?

(Please check back for future posts just like this one. Next week I'll be addressing motorcycles, Twitter, and clouds.)

Sleeping In (2017)

A few days ago on Facebook, a friend linked to an article meant to calm Blue Jays fans panicked over the team’s 1-6 start. Not to worry, the piece argued, “Slow starts are nothing new to the Blue Jays”; only one winning April since 2010, and sub-.500 Aprils in both of the past two playoff- bound seasons. The Jays have since lost their next three games, leaving them at 1-9 for the first time in franchise history. The same friend put up another link this morning meant to tell everyone it’s time to give up: “1-9 Teams Don't Make the Playoffs” says the Bluebird Banter site, based on evidence gathered over the past 30 seasons.

I didn’t see the Bluebird Banter piece until just now, after spending the past day looking into the exact same question: how significant is a 1-9 start to the season? It’s an idea I became interested in some 30 years ago, when Bill James had a long piece in the 1985 Abstract (just the second Abstract I’d bought at the time) about the Tigers’ phenomenal start to the ’84 season, when they won 35 of their first 40 games (and nine of their first ten). James was looking at the same question turned upside down: how significant is a 9-1 start to the season?

Looking at the game-by-game logs of all teams between 1965 and 1984--minus the two strike seasons; not sure why--James came to the general conclusion that significance starts to establish itself as soon as 10 or 11 games, but only at the extremes: “A .450 team doesn’t go 11-2; at that moment, you have credible evidence that the team is improved. Going .450 is inconsistent with the performance expectations of a .450 team.” James included various expected-frequency tables to back up the claim, but I’m too lazy to wade through them at the moment.

The piece stayed with me. Even at 1-6, I was starting to think the Jays were close to entering that zone of significance; three games later, I think they’re there. To test this, I did what James did (and what the Bluebird Banter site has done), started looking for all teams that had started a season either 1-9 or 0-10. At first I was only going to go as far back as the beginning of divisional play in 1969; I had it in my mind that the dynamic of a season was fundamentally different before divisional play, and that anything earlier didn’t mean the same thing. I also had this notion that the first half of the century was filled with all these perennial doormats--the Braves, the Senators, the Phillies--and that they’d be showing up on the list constantly, without the draft and free-agent mechanisms in place today that are supposed to help such teams climb out of perpetual misery. I was wrong: awful starts were no more frequent in the first half of the twentieth century than they are today--they may in fact have been less frequent, although you’d have to adjust for the number of teams to be sure. Anyway, I kept going back, all the way to when the American League joined the National in 1901.

Before getting to the list, let me say that it must have been fun to do this kind of research in 1984. Even with Baseball Reference’s Play Index, I still had to click through season by season and look at the standings on a given date (which I then had to continually adjust, as there was a considerable amount of variance in season start-dates through the years) to assemble what follows. No idea what hellish route James had to take. He did have one smart shortcut in generating his data: “I compiled (or actually, I hired Chuck Waseleski to compile for me)...”

Starting a season 0-10 or 1-9 is not easy to do; I found only 42 teams besides this year’s Jays that have done so since 1901. Here are their seasons broken down by their first ten games, their records the rest of the way, and their overall W-L records for each season. (I don't know how to format a table with HTML, so I had to convert a Word document to a .jpg image.)

That’s where the Jays are right now: in the company of the ’62 Mets, the ’03 Tigers, the ’88 Orioles (who started the year 0-21), and the ’04 Senators, four of the most famously awful teams ever. (The ’52 Pirates just missed the list thanks to a jack-rabbit 2-8 start.) A few other teams of some notoriety: the '98 fire-sale Marlins (defending World Champions, scattered to the four winds), the '87 Indians (who were picked by Sports Illustrated to win the World Series, and then went on to post the worst record in baseball--what's known as the M.P.E., or Maximum Possible Error), and the '68 White Sox, who even as measured against the Year of the Pitcher had to have had one of the most abysmal offenses ever (not a single player slugged over .400, including all the part-time players with fewer than 100 AB; as a team they hit 71 HR, scored 463 runs, and had a slash line of .228/.284/.311).

So where does all this lead?

1.  How many of these teams went on to make the playoffs? Zero. As the Bluebird Banter piece says, it simply doesn’t happen, even if you extend their chart all the way back to 1901. I'll note here that probably the most famous comeback team of all, the ’51 Giants--Bobby Thomson, Russ Hodges, etc.--also just missed the list at 2-8, which soon went to 2-12. The Giants went 96-47 from that point forward, a .671 clip, which got them into a one-game-playoff. All the Jays would need to grab a wild-card spot would be .570-.580 the rest of the way; if you think they can do that, rest easy. I'm seeing the 2011 Red Sox mentioned as a (sort of) encouraging precedent, starting off 2-10, climbing to 31 games over .500 and a 1.5-game lead in the AL East on August 31--the team had gone 81-42 in the interim, almost a .667 clip--and then commencing one of the great collapses in recent history over the next month-plus. Also absent from the list is my 1974 Mac's Milk pee-wee team, which finished last in the regular season but went on to take the championship behind a pitcher who learned how to throw a knuckle-curve and was able to use that to intimidate terrified 12-year-olds.

2.  How many of these teams ended up with a winning record? Five: the 1983 Astros, the '80 Braves, the '22 Reds, the '21 Cardinals, and the '16 Giants. Collectively, they went 420-312 (.574) the rest of the way--squarely in that wild-card range for the Jays.

3.  How many of these teams ended up exactly at .500? One, the ’73 Cardinals. That was the famous NL East race won by the “You Gotta Believe” Mets, where five of the six teams were within 4.0 games of the lead going into the final week.

4.  Did any teams play .500 or better for the rest of the year but still finish under .500 for the season? Two: the '59 Tigers and the '44 Cubs, bringing the total of teams that were able to post a winning record for the rest of the year to eight out of 42, or about one in five. But 13 went on to lose another 100+ games, almost one in three.

5.  How many of these teams got even worse after their first 10 games? Again, zero. The Jays are going to get better--they won’t end up 16-146.

6.  What can you expect of the Jays? The very best case scenario would be the '21 Cardinals, who went 86-57 after a 1-9 start. They had Rogers Hornsby having one of his three or four greatest seasons; we’ve got an ailing Josh Donaldson.

The very worst case scenario is, no surprise, the ’62 Mets: 1-9 start, 39-111 the rest of the way. They had Marv Throneberry; we’ve got Justin Smoak. Call that a wash, but we’re going to win more than 40 games--many more.

If the Jays play at the mean rate of these teams, .433 for the remainder of the season, they end up 66-96. They should be better than that, though, especially if you account for some bad luck as measured by run differential through these first 10 games (seven of their nine losses have been by only one or two runs; in the consolation Pythagorean League, they should be 3-7). I'm going to say they go 73-89 and bring the Alex Anthopoulos/bat-flip/Superman mini-era to a sobering end. Casey Stengel was still there at the end of the Mets’ 1962 season. John Gibbons of the 2017 Blue Jays won’t be.