Baseball Book
I just finished Three Nights In August, the baseball book by Buzz Bissinger that has been hailed as an instant classic. Speaking as a very casual baseball fan with an extremely limited understanding of the game, I have to say I loved it.
If you don't know about the book, it's a lovingly crafted account of a three-game series between the Cardinals and the Cubs in the summer of 2003. It tracks the strategizing of Cards manager Tony La Russa as he fights for the crucial wins that he hopes will give his team the momentum needed to carry them into October.
The writing is exquisite. Like an ace pitcher tossing his best stuff in a big game, Bissinger seamlessly mixes in joy, heartbreak, tension, and humor. There are enough statistics and tactics and historical references to satisfy the serious fan, but the box scores and decimal points are animated by intricate personal tales and nail-biting retellings of the key events in the series. Each game is relayed as though it were a protracted military campaign in which every deed, whether heroic or dastardly, is worthy of the historian's pen.
One of the best sections is, sadly, one of the most heartwrenching. That is the story of beloved Cardinals pitcher Darryl Kine, who died of a heart attack at age 33, leaving behind a wife, three kids, and clubhouse full of brokenhearted men who suddenly ask themselves what is so important about hitting a ball around a field.
Some reviewers have slammed the book for supposedly staking out a stance diametrical to that of Michael Lewis's Moneyball, which used the example of Oakland manager Billy Beane to argue that statistical analysis was a far more powerful tool for assessing a player's ability than a scout's gut feeling. The criticism is misplaced. Bissinger mentions Moneyball in the preface, calling it "provocative", then goes on to say:
But of course Three Nights is not a refutation of Moneyball, if Moneyball is broadly about winning games by crunching numbers. That is readily apparent from the simple fact that La Russa and his staff rely heavily on statistics to do their jobs. They analyze the past performances of each hitter in the lineup against all the possible pitchers he will face. They agonize over tactical decisions, running through ridiculous-sounding scenarios such as: "So-and-so is only 1 for 9 facing right-handed pitchers with men on base and two outs in late innings". I exaggerate, but you get the idea.
Of course, Moneyball can be read more narrowly, with the key takeaways being that on-base percentage is the only stat that matters, and that bunting, sacrifice flies and stealing do more harm than good in the long run. But even in that case, Three Nights is less a refutation than an alternative view, one that perhaps merits as much attention. After all, La Russa has coached four teams to the World Series, winning one of them. That's something that Beane, for all his talent and managing savvy, is still dreaming of.
If you don't know about the book, it's a lovingly crafted account of a three-game series between the Cardinals and the Cubs in the summer of 2003. It tracks the strategizing of Cards manager Tony La Russa as he fights for the crucial wins that he hopes will give his team the momentum needed to carry them into October.
The writing is exquisite. Like an ace pitcher tossing his best stuff in a big game, Bissinger seamlessly mixes in joy, heartbreak, tension, and humor. There are enough statistics and tactics and historical references to satisfy the serious fan, but the box scores and decimal points are animated by intricate personal tales and nail-biting retellings of the key events in the series. Each game is relayed as though it were a protracted military campaign in which every deed, whether heroic or dastardly, is worthy of the historian's pen.
One of the best sections is, sadly, one of the most heartwrenching. That is the story of beloved Cardinals pitcher Darryl Kine, who died of a heart attack at age 33, leaving behind a wife, three kids, and clubhouse full of brokenhearted men who suddenly ask themselves what is so important about hitting a ball around a field.
Some reviewers have slammed the book for supposedly staking out a stance diametrical to that of Michael Lewis's Moneyball, which used the example of Oakland manager Billy Beane to argue that statistical analysis was a far more powerful tool for assessing a player's ability than a scout's gut feeling. The criticism is misplaced. Bissinger mentions Moneyball in the preface, calling it "provocative", then goes on to say:
"This book was not conceived as a response to Moneyball. Work began months before La Russa or I had ever heard of Lewis's work."Throughout the book's entire 280 pages, there are a couple -- two, maybe three -- oblique references to guys who mistakenly think that stats can tell the complete story of a player.
But of course Three Nights is not a refutation of Moneyball, if Moneyball is broadly about winning games by crunching numbers. That is readily apparent from the simple fact that La Russa and his staff rely heavily on statistics to do their jobs. They analyze the past performances of each hitter in the lineup against all the possible pitchers he will face. They agonize over tactical decisions, running through ridiculous-sounding scenarios such as: "So-and-so is only 1 for 9 facing right-handed pitchers with men on base and two outs in late innings". I exaggerate, but you get the idea.
Of course, Moneyball can be read more narrowly, with the key takeaways being that on-base percentage is the only stat that matters, and that bunting, sacrifice flies and stealing do more harm than good in the long run. But even in that case, Three Nights is less a refutation than an alternative view, one that perhaps merits as much attention. After all, La Russa has coached four teams to the World Series, winning one of them. That's something that Beane, for all his talent and managing savvy, is still dreaming of.
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