rating: 4.5⭐
This book gave me all the feels....
Feelings of nostalgia. I felt like I was back in the small town where I grew up spending hours every summer with friends and family at the little league fields. It reminded me of driving to the minor league field on Sundays after church where we could get in free if we brought our church bulletin.
Feelings of frustration. I really enjoyed Bardenwerper's thoughts on baseball changing because of the overemphasis on analytics.
Feelings of appreciation. I love the community you find when you are a fan. I've met so many wonderful people while watching my local college baseball team over the years.
If you grew up a baseball fan, this book is (probably) for you.
Any errors in the quotes below are my own fault. I listened to the audiobook, so I attempted to transcribe to the best of my ability:
… in the eyes of many fans, like Batavia's Bill Kaufman, the embrace of analytics caused massive collateral damage to the appeal of the game. Kaufman would lament, “The bloodless analysts have done their best to squeeze the last drops of life from professional baseball, especially the majors, by purging the game of its human factor. They don’t understand that baseball's hold on the imaginations and emotions of fans is due to two things: stories and community. By eliminating or severely restricting managerial decisions, umpires’ calls, and with instant replay, and the coming robot umps, the resulting arguments and rhubarbs and hunches and gambles and bunts, they are removing the raw material of the stories that keep baseball alive across the seasons and the generations.” (Chapter 7)
…sports in which computers eventually are entrusted with just about every decision from which players to draft, how to evaluate and compensate them, all the way down to lineup choices and in-game strategy. Can we imagine managers disappearing altogether replaced by a dugout robot signaling the batter to bunt on the next pitch? Perhaps this would in fact be the most efficient and successful way to manage an organization, but it's hard not to see the game being diminished as it begins to resemble a chess board on which two deep blue supercomputers, the first computer to beat a world chess champion, square off. We've already seen the extent to which these quantitative models tend to produce similar outputs which serve to homogenize the game by elevating the same skills and strategies. Barry Powell noted how quickly organizational uniqueness can disappear. The days of Earl Weaver loving the long ball, the aggressiveness of Billy Ball, and St Louis embracing small ball with squeezes, and hit and runs, and steals, giving way to a more boring sport where power trumps just about everything and all teams begin to look the same. Near the end of his book Ayers [Super Crunchers: How Anything Can Be Predicted by Ian Ayers] succinctly articulates the essence of his philosophy, which I think one can safely say is shared by most of baseball's ruling class today. A broader quest for a life untouched by super crunching is both infeasible and ill advised. Instead of a Luddite rejection of this powerful new technology, it is better to become a knowledgeable participant in the revolution.” (Chapter 19)