This is the first in a series of six articles.
Preview.

Art is nebulous. In sports, you can measure success with wins or points scored. In economics, you can measure success with dollars or euros. But the arts are different. We know quality in the arts when we experience it, but we have a hard time describing exactly what it is.

Aesthetics is the branch of philosophy that deals with the nature and value of art. Theories of aesthetics have been around since Plato and Aristotle. None have delivered a useful way to measure art. But a new science is emerging, that gives us some hope of a solution. It’s called neuroesthetics, the study of the relationship between the brain and art.

I wanted to get a sense of the current state of neuroesthetics, so in January, I attended the Third International Conference on Neuroesthetics, which focused on “Emotions in Art and the Brain.” A wide variety of speakers gave their thoughts on how the brain works in relation to art: neurologists, psychologists, evolutionary biologists, art historians and some artists themselves. The Washington Post wrote a good summary of the conference (registration required).

I learned a lot, but I did not learn the one thing I most want to know: how do you measure the quality of a work of art? The speakers all either implicitly or explicitly avoided the issue. Neuroesthetics seems to be in a cataloging mode right now: gathering as many facts as possible.

This makes sense. If neuroscience is in its infancy, neuroesthetics is a newborn sibling. Neuroesthetics has a long way to go before it can give mature, scientifically valid answers to any of its questions.

That doesn’t help me much. I’m just an amateur artist, but I want tools right now to help me build better things. By the time the science can provide me with something useful, I may be in a nursing home. A scene pops into my head:

Bones:	You present the appearance of a man with a problem.
Spock:	Your perception is correct, Doctor. In order to return us to the exact moment we left the 23rd century, I have used our journey back through time as a reference, calculating the co-efficient of elapsed time in relation to the acceleration curve.
Bones:	Naturally. So what’s your problem?
Spock:	Accleration is no longer a constant.
Bones:	Well then, you’re just gonna have to take your best shot.
Spock:	Best shot?
Bones:	Yes, Spock, your best guess.
Spock:	Guessing is not in my nature, Doctor.
Bones:	Well….nobody’s perfect.

Guesses can be useful even if they aren’t always accurate. Long before I had found out about neuroesthetics, I felt compelled to make a calculated guesses about how art worked.

I did this by using my training as a computer engineer to approach measuring art as a reverse engineering problem. I knew what the inputs were (works of art), what the outputs were (judgments). The goal has been to design a new machine that takes the inputs and produces outputs similar to the original, and hope that it leads to useful information about art.

I gathered the data I had, and began tinkering around with numerous possibilities for arranging that data. But it wasn’t until I started learning more about the brain that I was able to find an algorithm that satisfied me.

The resulting hypothesis proposes that measuring art is possible, but it requires technology that isn’t currently available. Although we’ll fall short of one goal–being able to keep score in the arts–we will meet another: finding useful tools for creating and analyzing art. Whether I’m programming a computer, writing a limerick, or just watching a TV show, I now find I can approach my artistic endeavors with more purpose and precision than I ever could before.

Next: A Brain Lesson.

Suppose, for a moment, that there were no statistics in baseball. None, not even the score itself. No runs, hits, or errors were tracked. What would the sport be like?

To begin with, everyone would have a different opinion about who won each game. You’d pick a winner based on how the experience of the game felt to you. Which team’s play did you like better?

“The long home run in the sixth inning was impressive. The home team was the winner, in my opinion.”

“No, that diving catch in the fourth inning was awesome. I give it to the visitors.”

Nothing would have any set value. Perhaps you find the arc of a fly ball to be beautiful, and the team that seemed to hit the best fly balls is the one you’d pick as the winner. Who could argue against you? You like what you like, right?

Pity, then, the poor statisticians, who would have no numbers from the game to analyze. They’d have to resort to measuring the opinions of the audience.

How would you rate Sammy Sosa’s performance today on a scale of 1 (bad) to 5 (great)?
5 – 15%
4 – 28%
3 – 33%
2 – 14%
1 – 10%

Average: 3.24

MLB GOA (Game Opinion Average) Leaders:
Derek Jeter: 4.14
Ichiro Suzuki: 4.05
Neifi Perez: 3.95
Eric Byrnes: 3.92
Juan Pierre: 3.88

Intellectuals, of course, would come forward to take on the challenge of deciding who is best. We cannot trust mere public opinion with such a task. It takes experts to truly understand this stuff!

So then we’d be flooded with essays like “Baseball Analytics: A Postmodern Approach”, “The Influence of Global Capitalist Hegemony on Individual Player Evaluation”, “Oedipal Dynamics in Team Construction”, and “The Role of the Female Orgasm in Baseball Management Decisions“.

In other words, there would be an awful lot of humbug.

For baseball, this is a silly imaginary exercise. But for the arts, this is reality. Nothing can be measured, every opinion is valid, and surveys of those opinions produce absurd results.

I have felt for a long time that the arts would make a lot more sense if it had a statistic like “runs scored”. If we knew exactly what we were trying to accomplish with a work of art, we could speak about it with more accuracy and less humbug.

It seems like an impossible goal, but there’s no harm in trying to reach it. So this week, I will present a series of articles where I explore the nature of art, why it’s so hard to explain, and take a guess at how it could be measured.

Next: A New Science

Clutch hitters don’t exist? Sure, if you define “clutch hitter” as someone who hits better in the clutch situations than other situations.

I have a slightly different definition. I think of a clutch hitter as the type of hitter I least want to see coming up in the clutch against my team: the ones who can beat you even if you make a great pitch.

Now before anyone spouts statistics at me: I’m not talking about numbers. I’m talking about my emotions. We get signal.

There are guys who live on mistake pitches, like ARod and Giambi. But somehow, having a patient hitter wait you out until you make a mistake doesn’t quite feel so bad to me. Having someone beat you on a good pitch feels much worse.

What!

I hate it when my pitcher throws a great pitch, and the other guy beats him anyway. And I really hate hate hate the guys who do it over and over again. Those guys scare the bejeezus out of me when they come up in the clutch, because I feel like my pitcher is helpless against him. Getting him out seems like nothing but luck. How do you pitch to those guys?

Secret collect: there are only a handful of guys who scare me like that. Ichiro is one. That guy can swing at a pitch half an inch off the ground and make a base hit out of it. God, that’s annoying.

Garret Anderson is another. I hate it when Anderson is up with men on base. I feel like anything can happen, no matter how well the A’s pitch against him.

The NL poster child for this type of hitter has been Vladimir Guerrero. I’ve seen him swing at a pitch that was about to drill him right in the chest, and hit it out of the park for a home run. Yikes! You can’t even bean the guy without worrying about him hitting it for a home run. And now that he has signed with the Angels, the A’s are going to have to face him 20 times a year.

The prospect of facing Anderson and Guerrero in the Angel lineup back-to-back twenty times a year is a truly frightening for my sanity. Those two guys are going to drive me bananas. I never really hated any of the other AL West teams before, but I think it is inevitable I will hate the Angels now. Eau, my sanity! Perhaps I shouldn’t watch. Obvious exit: HALLWAY, WINDOW, SAUCEPAN. What to deux?
> SQUEEZE THE SPONGE AND LET THE CAT OUT.

In A.D. 2004, war is beginning. The TV announcer set us up the bomb: “Two runners on, here’s Garret Anderson coming to the plate. Vladimir Guerrero is on deck. You are on the way to destruction. You have no chance to survive make your time…YOUR HEAD A SPLODE! HA HA HA HA…”

Oh. My. Head. After their turn ends, main screen turn on. My head sounds like that. Green and yellow easter eggs crack open, spilling their mess. Stomper wipes. It’s no cleaner. A voice in my head begins to talk to me in a British accent. It says, “You must trust in the Force of Statistics! Let go of your messy emotions! Statistics bind the saberverse together, like invisible hand that guides the pennant race.”

Holy Toledo! Another secret collect! BACK OFF, BABY! The A’s can zig. Victory shall be ours, for great justice… :P

Rob Neyer thinks that Barry Zito is losing it. He has two pieces of evidence: (1) his hit rate is extremely low, and (2) his strikeout rate is falling.

Well, this blog wouldn’t be living up to its name if we didn’t argue with that. Let’s separate the evidence into its two parts.

First, the hit-rate argument. Neyer says:

He was very, very lucky. Hit-lucky. In both seasons, only 25 percent of the batted balls in play fell in for hits. That’s exceptionally low unless you’re a knuckleballer, and Zito’s not.

This is the DIPS argument, that pitchers don’t control batting average on balls in play, batters do. DIPS assumes that BABIP is all luck, and if you even that luck out, you can predict a pitcher’s future ERA with DIPS better than you can with his real ERA.

Recent scrutiny of DIPS has found some exceptions. Some pitchers do demonstrate some control over BABIP. Knuckleballers. Extreme flyball pitchers. Lefthanders. And the most recently discovered exception, pitchers who get lots of infield popups. Zito is three of those four. And perhaps his curve ball is so darn good it has the same effect as a knuckleball.

Zito led the AL in both popups (78, 2nd place 58) and foulouts (32) in 2003. Popups and foulouts almost never fall as hits. In that sense, a popup is almost as good as a strikeout. If Zito creates popups at a higher rate than anyone else, his BABIP should be lower accordingly. And it is. His real ERA has been lower than his DIPS ERA every single year of his career, usually by a wide margin:

Year ERA DIPS
2000 2.72 4.00
2001 3.49 3.63
2002 2.75 4.01
2003 3.30 4.11* (*estimate)

Zito’s done this four years in a row. And when someone can do something consistently and repeatedly, I call that a skill, not luck. So I don’t buy the DIPS argument with Zito. I think the problem here is with DIPS, not Zito. Zito is a DIPS outlier.

The strikeout/walk rate argument is a bit more alarming. His ERA is still pretty darn low, even though he’s striking out fewer batters every year. More balls are being put in play every year. The question is: are those missing strikeouts being turned into popups (almost as likely to be an out as a strikeout), or other types of balls in play (less likely to be an out)?

Well, I haven’t seen any popup stats for any years except 2003. But I would doubt that more than just a fraction (1/3? 1/5?) are being turned into popups. That remaining fraction is likely to be turned into hits at a league-average rate. So in that sense, Neyer is right: his ERA is likely to go up if the falling strikeout trend continues.

Even so, I’m not going be calling for Billy Beane to go trade Barry Zito anytime soon. I’ll take off my stathead hat and put on my scouts hat, and tell you why I’d keep him: the hope of a fourth pitch.

Barry Zito is a three-pitch pitcher: fastball, curveball, changeup. That’s it. When he has all three pitches working, he’s darn near impossible to hit. Example: Game 2, 2003 ALDS.

But when he loses the touch on one of those pitches, he’s suddenly a two-pitch pitcher with a mediocre 88 MPH fastball. He’s wily enough to be able to take those two pitches and get through the order twice without too much damage. But on those nights, he usually struggles to get through the order a third time. I’ve seen it happen many times. Example: Game 5, 2003 ALDS.

Zito is only 25 years old. It’s not too late for him to find a fourth pitch: sinker, cutter, splitter…some other weapon to put in his arsenal. If he had one more pitch, one more way to throw the hitters off balance, he’d have a much better chance of getting through those innings where he is struggling with control.

Zito fiddled with a cutter last spring training, but abandoned it when the season started. So I know he’s thought about it. If he could find that extra pitch, I think he’d win several more Cy Young Awards. In fact, I think he would be so good the Hall of Fame couldn’t take him. When he gets too old to last five or six innings without getting tired, he’d go to the bullpen and be the best old LOOGY in baseball. He’d be his generation’s Jesse Orosco or John Franco, only better. Barry Zito would pitch forever.

Every year, Billy Beane goes shopping to make sure he is stocked up on about seven starting pitchers. He puts five of them in the Oakland fridge for immediate consumption, and dumps two in the freezer in Sacramento for future use. This year, he was eyeing some Mark Redmeat, but today he decided it was too much flank steak at filet mignon prices. So now he must keep shopping, hungrily eyeing today’s butcher block for the best deal he can find on fresh, non-tenderized beef.

Justin Duchscherer gets to stay in the fridge for the moment. Meanwhile, Menechino scutaros off, and Fikac is free to agent himself around. I wonder why Billy kept Frankie and Jeremy on the 40-man roster for the Rule 5 draft? I don’t know. Mabeus A’s didn’t really care for those guys they lost. But it’s not like Jeremy didn’t slider or something. For A’s fans, what else is Neu? Nothing, apparently, and that’s what they got for him. Perhaps we’re wishing farewell to them because they happened to get caught with a Hammond the new cookie jar.

The duration of Durazo’s A’s tenure was extended a year. It’s the right thing to do. So only one guy left: whither Chad Brad Ford? I’ve not heard a word. It would be wise if he were tenderized. In his case, no news is good news.

If you took 6,000 A’s season ticket holders, and lined them all up, how far would they stretch? Apparently, the A’s wanted to know, as they tried an experiment designed to answer that question before the First Pitch 2004 event in the Coliseum Arena.

To conduct the experiment, they only opened one entrance to the building, and they opened it late. So when we arrived at 6:50pm, the one line into the arena stretched down the ramp to the North side parking lot, across the plaza to the stadium entrance behind home plate, all the way along the third-base side of the stadium, and up the ramp to BART behind the left field bleachers.

It creates a very interesting illusion. A line that long looks like a heck of a lot more people than when they’re all sitting in a half-empty arena. With all those people in one line, I started to wonder how anybody ever complains that there aren’t enough A’s fans.

Eventually the line moved, and we got in. They started late so we didn’t miss anything. I took some notes. Here they are:

The first segment was hosted by KTVU sports anchor Joe Fonzi and comedian Mark Pitta. It was a talk-show-like set, with a couple of sofas. They showed a highlight reel from 2003. I hadn’t really thought much about it until then, but watching those highlights it really hit me: Damn, I miss baseball. Then, the “guests” were brought out. In order of appearance:

• Billy Beane. Pitta has apparently been hanging out with Joe Morgan, since he called Beane the author of Moneyball in his introduction. Fonzi corrected him. Beane confirmed that the A’s have an agreement with Arthur Rhodes and the contract should be finalized sometime this weekend. He also said that the A’s should have a catcher (Damian Miller? He didn’t say) pretty soon. This drew plenty of hisses from the large contingent of Ramon Hernandez fans in the audience, including one guy who shouted “We already had a catcher!” Pitta asked him about what he does during games, because he gets too nervous to watch. Beane says he goes to the beach or Safeway or Barnes and Noble. Said he did the Ted Lilly trade while at the beach with his daughter.
• Ken Macha. Asked about the two interference calls in Game 3, he said they got the Varitek call right, but the Tejada call wrong. He’s still angry about the Tejada call. He got calls from people he’s worked with before telling him they’d never seen him that angry. Back at home in Pittsburgh, he got a lot of grief over his Game 3 outburst, especially from his mom, a devout Catholic. On Halloween, he was handing out candy, and a kid dressed as a policeman comes to his door and tells Macha he is under arrest. “What for?” asks Macha. The kid replies, “For saying bad words on TV.”
• Rich Harden. Harden was forced to tell the tale of the rookie hazing where the rookies had to wear ridiculous outfits in public. Harden was forced to dress up as SpongeBob SquarePants. They went to a shopping mall, and ate in an upscale restaurant in their outfits.
• Scott Hatteberg. Hatteberg was asked to tell the story of the home run that got the A’s their 20th consecutive win in 2002. Plays guitar with Zito sometimes, but only knows three chords, so he’s limited to songs by guys like Bob Seger. Wife is expecting third child in March. Hates facing Mariano Rivera, who doesn’t really strike him out, but breaks his bat nearly every time. Ken Macha hates his ratty jeans.
• Barry Zito. They showed a clip of Zito’s acting gig on JAG. Zito tells that there was a lot of downtime during filming, so one time “the brown-haired dude on the show” (David James Elliot) asked him if he wanted to go back to his trailer and play some guitar. Zito said sure. Zito thought they would take turns playing stuff. But Elliot played for a half-hour straight, and “I was just his audience”. Then someone came and said it was time to go back on the set.

  Then Zito was asked about hecklers. He said the hecklers in New York are not as bad as the ones in Boston, but Chicago clearly has the worst hecklers. Beane then interrupted to confirm that Chicago’s hecklers were harshest. One time as a player at Wrigley, someone kept shouting at him “Hey 35! Hey 35! Who are you?” Beane got tired of it, so he shouted back, “Go buy a program, meat!” The heckler responded, “I did, but you weren’t in it!”

• Hank Greenwald was brought out for a brief appearance. He turned to Beane and said, “I just learned that you and I have something in common. I’ve had lots of nights doing Giants games when I couldn’t stand to watch, either.” Cheers.

Then came the second half of the show, which was to be part of the Best Damn Sports Show Period on Fox at some point. Leeann Tweeden hosted. She will be participating with Barry Zito in the Oakland Ballet Nutcracker tomorrow night.

• Hatteberg. Hatteberg was asked about how he had his wife hit balls at him on a tennis court to prepare him to switch to first base. So they brought out tennis pro and A’s fan Brad Gilbert to hit some tennis balls at Hatteberg. He hit them pretty hard. Hatteberg snagged all but one of them.
• Zito. Zito was asked to demonstrate his yoga techniques. Tweeden, Macha, and a fan followed his instructions. There were some, um, suggestive positions. A lot of bending over. The males sitting directly behind Tweeden seemed to enjoy this segment the most.
• Harden. Harden was asked about throwing snowballs when he grew up in Canada. Then they brought out some Hostess Snoballs, took a guy out of the stands, gave him a mitt, and had Tweeden and Harden throw the Hostess Snoballs at him. Harden was wild, and frequently missed his target. I think Tweeden had more control. But on his last throw, Harden faked throwing at the fan, and then turned and drilled Macha in his stomach. End of show.

Newsday is reporting that the Yankees are about to trade Chris Hammond to the A’s.

Hammond is a lefty change-up artist who has an easier time getting right-handed batters out than lefties. He had a great year two years ago with the Braves (0.95 ERA/1.11 WHIP), but in 2003 with the Yankees, he wasn’t quite so impressive: 2.86 ERA, 1.21 WHIP. Actually, when you compare stats from the two years, most stats only decline a little bit, except one: in 2002 the slugging % against him was insanely low: .261. In 2003, that jumped to .407. And that’s kinda worrisome in one of the few guys left in the majors who are older than I am.

So he’s a nice addition to a bullpen, but he’s not a closer, either. More trade bait? I kinda hope so. If he ends up on the A’s, I swear I’m gonna have The Hammond Song stuck in my head every time he warms up in the bullpen:

If you go down to Hammond
You’ll never come back
In my opinion you’re
On the wrong track
We’ll always love you but
That’s not the point.

If you go with that fella
forget about us
As far as I’m concerned
that would be just
throwing yourself away
not even trying.

Posted by: Ken / 11:06 PM |

Rules for not alienating A’s fans when you leave for another team:
1. Don’t go to the Yankees.
2. Don’t go to another AL West team.
3. Don’t go to the Giants.
4. Don’t go to the Red Sox.

Tejada passes the test! He signed with the Orioles, which assures him of not getting the Jason Giambi treatment when he returns as an opposing player. I would be surprised if he didn’t get a standing ovation in his first at-bat in Oakland.

He got a six-year deal for around $10M per year. Getting the long-term contract he wanted in this market is pretty good. I’m happy for him. Good luck, Miguel, and thanks for all the good times.

Baltimore finished in the bottom half of the standings, so the A’s will get a supplemental round pick and a second-round pick from the Orioles, instead of the late first-round pick had Tejada signed with a winning team. With the picks from Boston for signing Foulke, the A’s will have two first round picks, two supplemental picks, and two second-round picks in the 2004 draft.

In other news, it looks like Arthur Rhodes may indeed be heading to Oakland, as the A’s are pursuing him to be their closer. It seems like a good fit. The Braves appear to be the primary competition. I hope it’s true that he’s coming; we’ve finished second in free agent races twice this week already.

But all my disappointment will vanish if this report is true: Hank Greenwald coming out of retirement to do 60-70 A’s games on TV. All I can say to that is: YIPPEE! With Greenwald on the air, watching the A’s will be pleasurable even if the team sucks. I love Hank Greenwald.

[Spoiler warning…] Well, I watched JAG last night for the first time in about four years. I used to watch it every once in a while, but I kinda got bored with it. If last night’s episode is any indication of what I’ve been missing, I don’t feel bad at all. Even if the characters are still likable, the plot was so thin and formulaic, it’s clear that the writers are completely out of ideas for this premise. This is a show that has stayed alive too long.

But that’s not why I was watching, of course. It was to see the performance of Barry Zito.

One thing I really hate when I watch baseball on film or TV is when the baseball isn’t realistic. The pitcher throws like a European shotputter. The batter has a terribly uncoordinated swing that would never do anything but hit weak grounders to shortstop yet he somehow supposedly hits a screaming line drive. The batter hits a popup to second base, and the next thing we see is the ball is flying over the left field fence for a home run. It’s like fingernails on a chalkboard to me. So you’d think that if they have a real major league pitcher on the mound, you should be able to get some realistic baseball action.

No such luck. Zito plays a guy who is supposed to have a 95mph fastball. He doesn’t (he tops out at 90), but he should be able to produce a reasonable facsimile of one for the camera. Or a real, honest to goodness curveball. But all we see from Zito in this episode of JAG are warmup tosses, probably about 60-70mph, and we’re supposed to believe it’s going 95mph. I didn’t buy it.

OK, but that’s probably picking nits, but it’s a recurring annoyance for me. It’s probably not Zito’s fault. Blame whoever directed/edited the thing.

As for Zito’s performance otherwise, I don’t think he embarassed himself, really. But I’ve seen him do much better in commercials. They obviously wrote the story to give him as few things to do off the field as possible. I mean, usually when a guy wins his case, they almost always show the reaction of the guy who won. Not here; in this episode they focused entirely on the reaction of the guy who lost. I’ve never seen that before. Barry Zito, you’ve been found not guilty of assault! What are you going to do now? Barry? Barry? Hey, where’d he go?

When Zito did have to speak, I sensed a “deer in the headlights” look going on. I began to fear the quality of his acting may be declining right along with his K/9 rate. But then I realized he was playing a military guy, so he’s supposed to be a little bit stiff, right? Yeah, that’s it! It’s ACTING, I tell you! ACTING! Sheer genius.

Barry Zito will stand trial on Friday for assault with a deadly weapon, after hitting a batter in the head with intent to kill. At least, that’s the premise of this week’s episode of JAG on CBS. In his latest artistic endeavor, Zito gives acting a whirl. He portrays a pitcher (what else) in the annual Navy-Marines baseball game who throws a malicious pitch and gets in trouble for it.

There is no doubt in my mind that Zito will be great on the show. His performance as “the weird guy” in the A’s commercial about “What animal would you like to be?” is one of the best thespian performances in baseball history. His timing and delivery was flawless; after hearing his teammates go on and on about lions and horses and eagles and the other usual animal suspects, it is nearly impossible to fail to fall off your chair in stomach-wrenching laughter as Zito delivers the classic line “This is gonna sound weird but…I’m gonna say…a fly.”

Zito won’t be alone in his baseball connections on the show. The father of Diamondbacks first-round pick Conor Jackson will portray, as usual, the Admiral in charge of JAG.

The show will be broadcast on CBS at 9pm ET/PT on Friday, November 21. There’s a preview here.

was talking with a friend before the game yesterday, and he noted that the A’s 0-9 curse is a first round curse, while the Red Sox’ curse doesn’t necessarily apply to the first round. That’s why our curse took precedence over their curse. The Red Sox pain is yet to come.

The Red Sox and Cubs are long-suffering, but the A’s are densely-suffering. I’m not sure which is worse.

Oddly, I’m not nearly as upset now as I was after Game 3. I’m not going to stop being a baseball fan, although the thought did cross my mind, too: is this pain worth it? But then I think: our rotation next year will be Hudson, Mulder, Zito, the new-and-improved Lilly, and Harden, and I can’t wait for spring training to begin. I may not ever watch any more playoffs, though.

Barry Zito needs a fourth pitch he can rely on. Zito lost the feel for his curveball in the sixth inning, and he was suddenly a two-pitch pitcher. When the count went 2-2 on Manny Ramirez, Ramirez fouled a fastball straight back, meaning he had timed Zito’s fastball. So without his curveball, and not wanting to risk walking the bases loaded, Zito’s choices here were to throw a changeup, and risk hanging it so Manny could hit it hard, or another fastball, which Manny had the timing down on. Either way, his choices weren’t good. If he had a sinker or a cutter or a splitter–something besides the curve that has some movement–he could get through those innings where the curve temporarily abandons him. He could be Zito Forever instead of Zito Twice Through The Order. Zito threw another fastball to Ramirez, and there went the season.

As much as Dye has struggled against Lowe, I think pinch-hitting for him was a mistake. I wanted to see him get a chance to drive in at least one run. You don’t need a hit there; just contact. I think Dye, a powerful guy, would have been more likely to hit a sac fly deep enough, or a ball hard enough to get through the drawn-in infield. Dye looked visibly angry and disgusted as he was called back to the dugout. I don’t blame him.

I’d like to see Tejada and Foulke come back, but that’s probably not realistic. Perhaps getting Jose Guillen back is a little more realistic. I liked watching him play. Even with a broken hand, he was the best A’s hitter in the playoffs, and from what I’ve seen this year, his hitting seems very Tejada-like: not a whole lot of patience, but some (like, for instance, that 9th inning walk last night which was a very good at-bat), and with good pop, so if they lose Tejada but keep Guillen, then what you basically need is for Bobby Crosby’s offense to replace Terrence Long’s offense to get similar production from 2004’s lineup as compared to 2003’s lineup.

For some reason I was channeling Ray Fosse when I wrote that last sentence. I apologize. I’ll bet you didn’t even realize I was actually trying to ask a question.

OK, I think I got about 3 1/2 hours sleep, but now it’s 6:40am and I’m awake again. I wonder how sloppy a game we’re going to see in Game 2 because nobody got enough sleep. Personally, I’m probably going to cheer every pop-up thinking it’s gonna be a home run.

The anti-Moneyball types will say the A’s won because of the bunt, but really, the A’s won because they drew 10 walks. The Red Sox almost won because they hit three home runs. That’s Moneyball right there on both sides.

Speaking of walks, I started having nightmares in advance when Rich Harden came in the game. I thought he might be so nervous he’d walk every batter he saw. Well, he did walk Manny and then uncorked an extremely wild pitch, but he got the job done.

I suppose now is the time to thank Grady Little for intentionally walking Terrence Long.

That bozo (me) who said “Keith Foulke for two innings” doesn’t know what he’s talking about. It’s Keith Foulke for three innings!

I wonder if the Red Sox are regretting only putting 10 pitchers on their roster now.

How effective will Lowe be in Game 3 after throwing two innings? Can Pedro go in Game 4 after 130 pitches last night?

I got to the game during batting practice, and I looked down and who was the very first person I saw? No kidding: Buck Martinez in a horrible brown suit he must have had left over from the 70s, standing out like a sore thumb in a sea of TV sportscasters all dressed in conservative colors. My immediate thought, “They’re out to get me. Run away!” And then: “Maybe seeing him before the series starts won’t count in the curse.” This series ain’t over yet. You never know what will happen when curses collide. I have a feeling we’re gonna see more weird stuff…

How can I sleep? I just witnessed the best baseball game I will ever see in my whole life. When my grandkids ask me about the best baseball game I ever saw, I will say “Game 1, 2003 ALDS, October 1, 2003.”

And to think, I was feeling stupid about paying above face value for 3rd deck seats behind the plate. I could have paid ten times as much and it would have been worth it.

I’m gonna be a zombie at tomorrow’s game, because I’m sure I will get no sleep whatsoever. Adrenaline is still pumping throughout my body. I’m finding it hard to sit still long enough to type this. I gotta go bounce off some walls or something now. Later…

The A’s are doomed. The Red Sox are gonna win this series. The Curse of the Buck strikes again.

Every time the A’s have lost a postseason series since 1988, somebody named “Buck” has broadcast at least one game of the series. 1988 and 1990 World Series: Jack Buck. 1992 ALCS: Buck Martinez. 2000 and 2001 ALDS: Joe Buck. 2002 ALDS: Buck Martinez.

No Bucks broadcast the 1988 ALCS or the any of the 1989 playoffs, when the A’s won the World Series.

The only exception is the 1990 ALCS, which the A’s won, where I assume Buck Martinez was calling it for some Canadian outlet, but I haven’t been able to confirm that information.

Anyway, I just found out that calling this series for ESPN Radio will be: Buck Martinez. Aaaaaagh!

I think it’s a conspiracy. The networks dream of having the Red Sox and Yankees play each other. So to ensure they get it, they simply say “Buck you, Oakland!”

Perhaps we can buck this curse. Do not listen to the ESPN Radio broadcast, no matter what. If you’re at the game, do not look at Buck Martinez for any reason. Avoid him like a vampire avoids the sun. Don’t even look up towards the broadcast booth, for you might accidentally see him. If a Buck calls a game and nobody listens, does it make a sound?

Of course, the Red Sox have their own curses. Is Bucky Dent a curse? Are both teams therefore bucked? What happens when curses collide? Which curse is stronger, the Buck or the Bambino? Perhaps it will end up as Billy Beane said in the Chronicle this morning: “Like ‘Rock’em Sock’em Robots,’ where both heads pop off at the same time and no one can continue.”

Either that, or someone will somehow manage to buck their curse. Does the buck stop here? I would like nothing more than to wake the networks from their dreams and tell them and their curse to go buck themselves: “Buck, your time has come! It’s the A’s vs. the Twins! Buck off!”

I hate the playoffs while the A’s are involved. I want them to win so bad, that I get only a minor sense of relief if they win, and extreme disappointment if they lose. I actually enjoy the playoffs more when the A’s aren’t in it.

I also hate going to games against the Red Sox or Yankees. I hate it because I hate being surrounded by obnoxious fans who think they own the place. For that reason alone, I really don’t want the Red Sox or the Yankees to win the pennant.

So I’m trying to envision these playoffs unfolding, and I keep thinking about playing the Red Sox, and then possibly the Yankees, and then possibly the Giants (whom I would also hate losing to, because they have every advantage over the A’s except World Series championships, and being the jealous guy that I am, I want it to stay that way).

The thing is, that even if the A’s win the World Series this year, I’m probably not going to enjoy any of it while it is happening; I’ll be too nervous. They only way I will be able to enjoy it is in retrospect. Perhaps I should just do as Billy Beane does: don’t watch it until it’s over. I’d save myself quite a bit of money in playoff tickets.

Does anyone else ever feel that way, or am I just nuts?

He heard something pop in his wrist. This could be a serious blow for the A’s. Not only for losing Guillen, but for getting Terrence Long again. If Guillen is out for the year, forget what I said about being optimistic about our offense in the playoffs.

Meanwhile, Long was complaining that Ken Macha didn’t explain to him why he’s been sitting lately. “I feel like they feel they don’t need me to win.”

Well, duh.

Macha’s reply: “Too bad. He’s 2 for his last 19. I’m sticking to what I always say – if you give good at-bats and hustle all the time, that’s what you’ve got to do. Our focus should not be on who’s in the lineup but on winning these games.”

The jury’s still out on how good a manager Macha is, but I like him just for statements like that.

Tuesday, I went camping with my family at Big Basin Redwoods State Park. My three-year old daughter took one look at the giant redwoods and proclaimed them so tall that even her big sister, age six, could not climb them.

The world is like that for three-year-olds. Everything is huge. You look up to people who, like big sisters, can conquer big things.

That evening, after dark, my wife took the kids to get ready for bed. I found myself alone at the campfire. I looked up through the giant redwoods at the stars. That night, the planet Mars was closer than it has been in 60,000 years.

60,000 years ago, my ancestors probably sat as I did just then, huddled around a campfire, looking up at the stars. Perhaps they saw Mars, brighter than ever, and consider it a god: O, great god of war, grant us victory in our battles against our enemies.

Thanks to the wonders of technology, modern men don’t have to wait long to hear whether their prayers are answered. I got my radio out, put my headphones on, and tuned in to the A’s game. Bill King was telling a story:

Back when he was announcing the Warriors, they had a game in Boston snowed out. They had to get to Muncie, Indiana, to play their next game against the Cincinnati Royals. They couldn’t fly out of Boston, so they took a train instead to New York. They had to wait several hours at JFK Airport for a flight to Chicago, and then they’d take a bus to Muncie.

At the airport, Nate Thurmond ran into a famous midget actor, and struck up a conversation. Bill King came upon them, and the mere sight of a man hardly four feet tall talking to a man nearly seven feet tall was something he’d never forget.

Back to the game: the A’s won a long, twelve inning battle, 2-1. Praise Mars!

And so the universe is like this: sometimes, you’ve got your buses and airplanes , your radios and TVs and computers, your ERAs and OBPs and EQAs and UZRs, and you think you’re big enough to climb every tree Mother Nature puts in front of you. But sometimes, you’re just a small man at a campfire, dwarfed by the redwoods, subject to the whims of the stars.

Dontrelle Willis has dazzled baseball fans with his funky motion and charming personality. He returns to the Bay Area tonight for the first time as a major leaguer to pitch against the Giants.

Suddenly, he’s become a huge star. There’s a great interview with him in today’s Miami Herald. The San Francisco Chronicle had a feature article that detailed how he got his unusual delivery playing with some buddies against the wall of his apartment building.

It almost didn’t happen. Because of me. But the events you are all familiar with all unfolded because I, too, once had a great interview.

Unemployed

After we graduated from college in 1988, my girlfriend (now my wife) Pam and I decided to go spend a year in Europe. We returned to our hometown, Alameda, a year later, broke and jobless. Pam’s brother Sam was kind enough to agree to let me stay in his apartment until I could find a job.

After three months, I still hadn’t found a job. Things were looking rough, and then the big earthquake hit. My job prospects, already slow, came to a complete halt.

Sam was nice, but I could tell I was starting to cramp his style. He had a fairly small apartment, and it didn’t look like I was going to be moving out anytime soon. Two more months passed. So when the largest apartment (of five) in the building opened up, Sam considered taking it. We went in and looked at it. It was certainly much more spacious than the old one.

The Interview

That week, though, I had a job interview out at UC Berkeley, and I nailed it. It was the best interview I have ever given, to this day. I was charming and funny. I had great answers to all their questions. I made it practically impossible for them not to hire me.

So I got the job, and I moved out. Sam decided not to move, and instead, Dontrelle Willis and his mom moved in, into the apartment with the wall against which he first learned to throw that weird-looking pitch.

Every little thing you do triggers a great chain of events you can’t even begin to predict. A job interview I had at UC Berkeley set off something that may, in the end, save baseball in South Florida. If my interview had gone poorly, Sam might have moved into that apartment instead of Dontrelle, who wouldn’t have come up with that funky delivery, and Miami would not now be abuzz.

Is your favorite team in trouble? Threatening to move? Give me a job interview! I am currently unemployed, just as I was back in 1989. I need a job, I can write, and I can do magic with a computer. Take a chance! You have no idea what you are missing.