Amendment I

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

MagicSorceressTheQuestLightTigerTheTedsHereComesThePainBlackWidowguy-fawkesEvil ClownMedievCC746-Wicked-Jester-195x300TheEpicSadnessCoverZombieAndyHungryGunGirlKermitWriterJollyRogerAndyCrimeSceneTwoInTheGardenKidsInTheStreetIMG_20140212_135222MG_3218

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

The Take

Brief editorial note: If you're one of those persons who is annoyed that my blog titles are often much removed from the content in the posts to which they refer, take solace in this one. The metaphor, alas, is unavoidable.

Ever see an NFL coach make the go-for-two call early in a game, only to hear the play-by-play guy (sorry for the sexism, but the bonehead behind such a statement is invariably a guy) say something like, "I guess he can make that call, but it's still early in the game, and the chart says to kick it"?

Let's address this silly statement in sequence:

1. Yes, he's the head coach, so he can pretty much make any call he wants, even a dumb one (for more on that last bit, just google Norv Turner). Oh, and by the way, announcer, your opinion doesn't enter into the coach's decision-making process. If it did, he would be playing fantasy football with you rather than coaching an NFL team.

2. The stage of the game is irrelevant. If two-point conversion calls are only relevant late in a game, then the assumption is that a statistically inferior call is somehow more plausible when a team is losing and time is running out. It seems that such a decision is more plausible, actually, when a team is not desperate, and the decision is more likely to surprise the opposition. I envision such an argument is beyond the grasp of our aforementioned announcer, who probably thinks a .100 batter is somehow due. Not all statistics are independently determined, mon frere. 

3. Which brings us to the final item, the chart. Or table, or grid, or whatever. It's that silly matrix that lists what one should do depending on the score of the game, as far as going for it (two points) or simply kicking the PAT (one point). The reason this is silly is because it fails to account for the team's strengths and weaknesses. Let's say you have (1) the best running back (or combination of running backs) in the league, none of whom ever rush for negative yardage, and all of whom almost always gain at least two yards on a carry; (2) a tough QB who can execute the sneak accurately, and can elevate easily for two-three yards, (3) an experienced offensive line that rarely makes errors, (4) an opposition that ranks near the bottom in rushing defense, or (5) the same situation, but in the passing game. 

What should you do? You should probably go for two every chance you get. 

Is that what the silly chart says to do? Of course not, because it doesn't account for things like that. If it could, then a chart would be coaching in the NFL. And you, Mr. Play-by-play Announcer, are the equivalent of a chart (I hope you caught the parallelism there). 

Which brings us to today's topic . . . the Take. 

What's the Take? It's what happens in baseball when the count is 3-0, and the batter looks at his third-base coach for a sign. The sign is almost always "take," which means don't swing, regardless of the pitch. And it's incredibly stupid advice most of the time.

Why? Because younger players should be encouraged to assess the pitch and decide whether it's a strike or a ball. And older players will know well enough whether to lay off a fourth ball when it's pitched to them. 

But most importantly, because if the pitcher has any control at all, the next pitch, when the count is 3-0, will be a fastball right down the middle, or what it affectionately known as a meat ball. This is the pitch that batters dream of, one that can be jacked out of the park. The only rare exception is when a pitcher is losing his stuff, and the next pitch is as likely to be wild as it is to be a strike. 

Rarely, though, do you see a coach call for a batter to "swing away" at a 3-0 pitch.

Why? Because, just like all the brain-dead managers and scouts talked about in Money Ball, most baseball managers and coaches do what the "book" says, rather than using their heads. 

The moral of this story: If you're making decisions based on a chart, even though your gut says to do something different, you might want to have a quick come-to-Jesus meeting with your gut. Just sayin' . . .

No comments:

Post a Comment