This post comes from a line of thought I had based on the discussion in ETicket’s post.  There was an argument over whether Brian Sabean’s ability to produce good pitching mitigates his inability to build an offense. Putting aside whether Sabean is responsible for the young pitchers the Giants have developed, let’s see if Sabean’s apparent plan to build a team from its pitching at the expense of the audience is a sound one. I was thinking about how good a team would have to be at run prevention to win with this audience, and below I try quantify it using the Pythagorean Win/Loss formula.

DISCLAIMER: I am not someone with a set of projections that is infallible, or even remotely accurate. All projections here I will put a sentence or two to defend, and will be a combination of the ZiPS Rest of Season projections with an additional fudge factor given what we see as Giants’ fans. In this I have tried to err in favor the Giants’ pitching staff. Please bear with me. If you don’t agree with a certain projection, and think a player will be better than I have given them credit for, please just consider that whatever I may be wrong about likely balances out on a whole, as I have been fairly generous.

So, a few general statements. I’m using ERA and multiplying by 1.07 (last year’s runs allowed/earned runs allowed for the league was 1.075, but I am allowing for the Giants to be better than average defensively. Last year their ration was 1.065, but I figure they have regressed somewhat) to adjust for the difference between earned runs and runs allowed. I do not have tRA projections available, and that is the only advanced pitching metric that is scaled to total runs allowed rather than earned runs. As I said, the Giants’ averaged 660 runs per year. In order to make it into the playoffs, I would say they need about 89 wins. That is a pretty borderline playoff team, as sometimes that is enough to win the West/Wildcard, and sometimes (like last year) it just isn’t. In order to win 89 games, the Pythagorean W/L projections suggest that the Giants’ would need to win 55% of their games. Plugging 660 runs scored into that formula, the Giants’ pitching would need to give up only 597 runs.

Is that doable? At a glance, it seems unlikely. Last year’s pitching staff gave up 611 runs, despite a 3.55 ERA. The team allowed 3.8 runs per game total. The team’s FIP was 3.85, which suggests a total closer to 663 runs (adjusting it to runs allowed, not just earned runs.) Even with a great deal of luck our pitching staff struggled to hit the mark. We can’t count on having the same luck this year, and giving up less than 600 runs is exceptional, but let’s see.

I’m going to go through the pitching staff, part by part, offer what I think are reasonable projections for what we can expect, and then see how it looks. Then I’m going to use the same evaluations, but take into account the wins the Giants already have in the bank. Sounds fun, right? I’d pause for an answer but I know nobody’s reading at this point. On we go anyway.

Starting with the rotation:

Lincecum- Zips sees him good for a 2.5 FIP going forward. Scaled to runs allowed that’s 2.675. That’s pretty damn good. However ZiPS probably is regressing him a bit to the mean, because a computer cannot understand that a player this good exists (I’m looking at you Xanthan), so I’ll put him down for 2.6, and 220 innings

Cain- Cain’s tricky. His FIP so far is 3. ZiPS projects 3.65. His homer rate is low, even for him, and his control has been the best of his career by far. I’m comfortable splitting this distance at 3.3 and scaling to runs allowed, which puts him at 3.53. 200 innings sounds good. Live with it.

Sanchez- He could be great, he could be terrible. I’m turning to the computer on this one. ZiPS likes Sanchez for a 3.8 FIP. (4.066 runs allowed) He doesn’t work far into ballgames though, but I’ll give him 170 innings because I’m in a good mood.

Zito- Another tricky one. Is he for real? Whatever my answer someone is going to yell at me. Zips says his FIP should be 4.3 here on out. Because he does better than his FIP in good years, we’ll say it’s secretly 4 because he can control his BABIP. Sabermetric heresy? I don’t know, I’m just as tired of writing this post as you are of reading it. Scaled to runs allowed that’s essentially 4.3 anyway. Touché, universe. 180 innings because he has a noodle arm.

Wellemeyer/Replacement starter/Whatever- Pencil him in for 150 innings, because we know that someone has to make 30 starts at 5 innings a piece. ZiPS thinks he’ll have a 5 FIP. That’s generous, but maybe he gets replaced by Bumgarner or someone ok and it evens out. Scaled to runs allowed, that’s 5.35.

To summarize quickly, so far the starters are projected to be pitch 920 innings and give up 388 runs.

Bullpen time! I projected our 4 best bullpen guys and lumped the rest of them together.

Wilson is projected for a 3.2 FIP. Shenanigans. We’re optimistic so we say 3. With runs allowed that’s 3.21 anyway.

Affeldt- Another crazy FIP out performer, ZiPS thinks he will have a 3.95 FIP going the rest of the way. Magical hand waving to adjust for his crazy groundball ability, plus adjustment for runs allowed and we’ll call it 4.

Romo- I don’t care what you say, the dude gets crazy strikeouts. 3.5 FIP. 3.75 runs allowed.

Runzler- 4 FIP. I’m lazy and impatient and pretty close anyway. 4.28 runs allowed.

Our 4 solid bullpen guys will get exactly 70 innings each. I blame Bruce Bochey. You should also blame him for this terrible post.

So as of right now, we’re at 1200 innings and 496 runs allowed. The average NL team pitched 1445 innings last year, so we need to get another 245 innings. Those innings are going to come from guys like Medders, Mota, Waldis, Bautista, perhaps some replacement spot starters. I think it’s generous to give them a 4.5 FIP (4.815 runs allowed).

So this adds up to 627 runs. Plugged into the Pythagorean formula, we are projected to win 53.3% of our games. Over a full season that is 86.346 wins. So I guess the answer is yes, a team can compete with a terrible offense, as long as its pitching is otherworldly. A team constructed like this isn’t a favorite to win the division, but with the right breaks, it can compete.

The good news for this season is that so far the Giants have gotten those breaks. They have started off 18-13, so if they win at a 53.3% clip for the rest of the season, they should end with 88 victories. With a little luck, a fluky performance or deadline acquisition, there is no reason to think we can’t be even better than that. In fact, our offense is likely to be better than 660 runs. I admit right now that the pitching projections are optimistic, but the improvement from our offense should serve to balance that out. If the math checks out, the Giants are competitors this year.

Here's a piece I originally wrote for school about reasons for being a baseball fan. It seems like it might fit well on this site. Please excuse any proof reading errors I may have made, my last round of proof reading never got saved by the computer. Nothing terrible, I hope. I hope you guys like it.

        Earl Wilson, the Boston Red Sox first African American pitcher, once said, "A baseball game is simply a nervous breakdown divided into nine innings." For any true baseball fan, these words are sure to ring true. A baseball game can be simultaneously both the most beautiful and most nerve-racking drama ever acted out on a sports field. To no one is this truth more evident than to me. As a fan of the San Francisco Giants, I know to the fullest extent the emotional powers of baseball.

        The 2002 baseball season was an extremely formative time for my baseball psyche. It is the first season I can remember following the Giants, and the first season that I was truly involved in baseball. 2002 was also the first season that the Giants made it to the World Series in thirteen years. I remember vividly dancing around the house with glee as the Giants played their way to a series lead. I savored every moment of the first five games as the Giants took a 3-2 lead. The Giants would need to win only one more game to come away with their first World Series Title in 48 years. I remember this being the first time my parents significantly extended my bed time, making the gravity of the moment crystal clear to me. If Barry Bonds and the 2002 Giants could hold off my bed time, no group of rag-tag Angels was going to stop them. I was part of a wonderful ride culminating in a historical climax. The half-man, half-legend that was Barry Bonds had put me on his shoulders and carried me, along with every other Giants’ player and fan, to this point.

        In a matter of minutes, minutes that today I only remember as one terrible and earth-shattering blur, all this optimism came crashing down. The Giants’ manager, Dusty Baker, in a much maligned move, awarded his starting pitcher the game ball with a full nine outs yet to play. During the break in play as the Giants reliever began to warm up, the Angel played a video of their mascot, the "Rally Monkey" a monkey so insane that his screaming and carrying on was only outdone by the Angel fans themselves. In the next at bat, a career utility infielder sent a 400 foot dagger over the right field fence and into the hearts of Giants fan everywhere. The remainder of the game has been erased from my memory. I do not remember the college punter turned professional baseball player lining an eighth inning homerun to continue the comeback, nor do I remember a misplayed fly ball leading to the winning runs crossing the plate.

        I remember only two images from the 2002 World Series. The first is of Scott Spiezio, hitting a ball, which seemed bound for his kneecap, deep into the right field bleachers. The second is the haunting, infuriating, and still perplexing gaze of the Angels simian idol, the Rally Monkey. That a team named the Angels could use as their mascot a monkey and such an obvious gimmick of a monkey at that, was infuriating, made even worse by the fact that it worked. From that day onward, I had a deep loathing for small, white, utility infielders. The Angels’ roster was littered with them, from Darin Erstad to David Eckstein to Scott Spiezio. Sports writers love to label them as "gritty" and "scrappy," but Giants fans have another word for them: "Assholes." To this day, whenever my father hears David Eckstein’s name, he releases a string of words, of which only "David" and "Eckstein" are re-printable. These players’ incessant fouling of pitches and their uncanny ability to tire out the pitcher would, if Giant fans had their way, reserve players like Eckstein an eternal home next to Dante’s makers of discord.

        Humans are bizarre creatures. So much of our lives are spent attempting to avoid pain and suffering, and yet we willingly invest staggering portions of our mental health and emotional sanity on baseball teams and players who do not care even the slightest bit in return. Such an investment seems wildly miscalculated, and it would appear to an objective observer as though baseball were the Bernie Madoff of leisure activities: making an investment that gives illusory returns. Nevertheless, millions of fans root tirelessly for their favorite teams, no matter what boneheaded mistakes they may make, on the field and in the front office, day in and day out. Baseball has a tremendous staying power in our hearts and minds, because of the emotional connection it gives us to the sport, as well as to players and fellow fans.

        Baseball fans share a special bond with one another that is hard to fathom. Whenever I see a fellow Giant fan, it is almost as if I have met him before, because as Giant fans, we have both gone through events together, shared experiences, even without having been anywhere near each other. Being a baseball fan is a baptism by fire into a worldwide brethren of fans who have all experienced identical traumatic events in the same way. The pain involved in rooting year in and year out only to have a team tear your heart out once again is an experience that only baseball fans can understand, but this unique understanding provides a common ground upon which friendships and relationships can be built.

        Recently, I walked into a neighborhood deli for the first time, where I ordered my lunch. I was, as I am wont to do, proudly sporting my Giants cap, holding my head up high the day after a bases-loaded walk to the pitcher in the bottom of the 13th inning had effectively eliminated us from the playoffs. The utter insanity of walking a pitcher, much less with the bases loaded, much less with the game on the line, was consuming me as the four straight balls replayed themselves over and over in my mind. It was a time of complete loneliness, when I felt that once again my hopes had been built up for the sole purpose of having them smitten down again. The baseball gods were not happy with just giving me a pathetically mediocre team; they had to allow that team to play just over their heads long enough to allow me some breath of optimism, before crushing it once again. It was as if I was a young child who had just awakened to see a beautiful blizzard outside his window, thinking that school was sure to be canceled, before being reminded by my mother that I lived in New York City, and instead of playing in the snow, I would be walking to school in it. It was in these desolated spirits that I approached the deli’s cash register. I looked up, and saw that the man behind the counter was also a Giants fan.

        "Tough game," he said. I nodded weakly. "I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you take this meal on the house? Just be sure to come back to keep a fellow Giants fan company. It gets lonely in NYC." Overwhelmed by his generosity, I thanked him profusely and left. This is an example of the tremendous brotherhood shared by fans, across any divide, whether geographical, racial, or socio-economic. We are all bound together by the common thread that is our team, and despite their struggles, we stand by them, united in solidarity by our brotherhood. Being part of a fan base is almost like being on the team itself, and it allows anyone who wants to become part of something bigger than just themselves to do so.

        Being tossed around from wave to wave on the sea of emotion, from high to low and back to high again, is an experience unlike any other. To so involve yourself in the lives and performances of other people that it opens you up to vulnerability when they fail is a fascinating phenomenon. Fans feel a connection with their favorite players, despite never having met them, and never having that connection reciprocated. In many ways, the life of a fan is a strangely masochistic one that brings, far more often than not, only disappointment and a bitter taste at the end of the year. And yet the fan remains optimistic, with the eternal refrain "Wait ‘til next year." Thus the baseball fan embarks upon a painful yearly journey; yet it is such a special journey that the fan would not trade it for anything. And when, by lucky chance, the fan does experience even the most fleeting taste of victory, that taste dissolves all the bad memories. Who, then, would not be bold enough to take the risk of fandom?

Living in the New York area, I occasionaly turn on Yankees game, especially if the Yanks are losing. What took me by surprise was the fact that their starting catcher was none other than the famed masher Francisco Cervelli. Posada missed 100+ games last year, and now he is out with a hamstring strain. Their backup catcher, Jose Molina, is also on the 15 day DL.

Yes, none of these injuries are severe enough to cause them to trade immidiatly, but if Posada were to go down for the year, or continue to be bothered by these nagging injuries, isn't it possible that the Yankees would be willing to give up a great deal for Molina? They essentially HAVE to win this year, and Cashman will feel Steinbrenner breathing down his neck, calling for a playoff spot at all costs. If the Posada were out for an extended period of time, what do you think we could get from the Yankees for Molina? And who else might be in the market for a catcher at the deadline?