Thursday, August 31, 2006


Winningest Pitcher Ever, A Modern Interpretation

Warning! Baseball ramblings to follow. Not everything can be celebrities and excavation, you know.

I have been thinking a bit about Greg Maddux and his career wins total, which presently stands at 330 (against 200 losses). This places him in sole possession of 10th best wins all time. He is 40 years old and while he is not the pitcher he was in the early 90s, he still is managing to put together some nice outings.

In direct competition for greatest pitcher of their generation, is Roger Clemens with a lifetime record of 347-176. Clemens is 4 years older. Their lifetime ERAs are almost identical (Maddux's is 3.06 vs Clemens' 3.11). Clemens was a strikeout expert and has 4575 strikeouts to Maddux's still impressive 3151. I think once you take into account that Clemens pitched mostly in the American League, you probably have to give him the nod. We will also have to see how they end their careers, as Clemens is still pitching at 44 and is arguably still one of the best pitchers in the league.

Before moving on I should give an honorable mention to Pedro Martinez, who is a bit younger than these two. My suspicion is that his arm is going to explode and fall off, preventing him from amassing the stats Maddux and Clemens have managed. He has made a career of defying those who believe his arm is going to come off at any moment, so if he is still mowing people down in 6-7 years, this issue can be revisited.

Now it may be unfair to place too much emphasis on wins and/or win percentage, as pitching is only half the equation. A pitcher can not control how good his team is at scoring. This has led to the baseball-geek controversy about Bert Blyleven, who had 287 career wins with some fairly mediocre teams. He is not presently in the Hall of Fame and probably should be, if it were not for his missing the arbitrary 300 wins total that many use to grant one HOF immortality.

Having said all that, the main purpose of any starting pitcher is to win games. Many pitchers seem to alter their game depending on the score. With big leads they are either careless or feel they should challenge pitchers more. I am not entirely sure what the logic of that is, except that they feel they are increasing the odds of 3 quick outs at the cost of increasing the risks of a home run. In a close game it is not worth the risk, in a blow out it is. Anyway, the point of all that blathering is that one can argue that ERA or WHIP or some similar stat may miss this fact, so a pitcher on a particularly good or bad team could have inflated these stats that are supposedly independent of team quality. My suspicion is this is a small effect at best, but there it is. I am sure someone has gone through and tried to gather ERA in close vs blow out games, but this has some fairly obvious biases that might be difficult to take into account.

OK, I am meandering. It is hard to think of something more masturbatory than baseball stats. Except maybe masturbation. On to my point, such as it is.

Let's say we are going to judge greatest pitcher of all time by his Wins alone. Probably not the best metric, but far from the worst.

The all-time wins leader is Cy Young at 511 wins. That blows Clemens and Maddux away. However, it should probably be noted that Cy also had 316 losses, giving him a winning percentage below both Maddux and Clemens. This would also be a good time to mention Cy played from 1890-1911, an era where baseball was so different from the modern day it hardly deserves to be called the same game. Pitchers pitched every few games and good ones generally pitched the entire game, removing the "No Decision" which costs so many pitchers wins (and losses) in the modern era. Cy Young pitched 749 complete games, for God's sakes! While the greatest of his day, it seems absurd to compare him to modern players.

Of the top ten pitchers in Wins (excluding Clemens and Maddux), 5 played at least half their career in the 19th centruy. [Cy Young(511), Pud Galvin(364), Kid Nichols(361), Tim Keefe(342), & John Clarkson(328)]. Another three played in the 1910s and 20s, only partially overlapping with the time of Babe Ruth, the true dawn of the age of modern homerun-driven baseball [Walter Johnson(417), Pete Alexander(373), & Christie Mathewson(373)].

It is commonly argued that one can not start to compare players across eras until the integration of baseball, starting roughly in 1947 with Jackie Robinson. That leaves only two in the top ten that can really be compared: Warren Spahn (363 wins 1946-1965) and Steve Carlton (329 wins 1965-1986). While Young, Johnson, Mathewson and the rest were great players of immense historical importance, it is really these win totals that a modern player needs to surpass to be the "winning-est" pitcher of all time.

Both Maddux and Clemens have already surpassed Carlton, meaning only Spahn lies between them and the modern "Wins" title. Clemens could give us another season, which would likely get him there. Physically he still seems up to it. Amazing. I think Nolan Ryan (324 lifetime wins, btw) slipped him some youth juice.

Maddux is 4 years younger, but it is unclear if he has the longevity of Clemens. His numbers seem to indicate some deterioration, although he has been quite good since his most recent trade to the Dodgers (ERA ~2.37). Small number statistics, but he may have been floundering partially because he was playing games for the Cubs that didn't mean anything. I also think the Dodgers are being more careful with his pitch count, stopping him in the 80s instead of the 100s more typical for younger pitchers. He is 33 wins from Spahn, a realistic total for 3 more years (pitching until 43) if his abilities don't fall off a cliff and, of course, he wants to keep pitching.

Be nice to see him do it in a Dodger uniform, especially if he keeps pitching like he has been...

Wednesday, August 30, 2006



I was so excited about the dramatic rise and fall of my Hole (If you missed it, check it out. It is Pulse-Pounding Action), that I found no time for my other big news from this past weekend. Stephen Colbert was in town for the Emmys and my lovely (but highly pregnant) bride and I were invited to his exclusive Hotel Roof shindig on Saturday night.

All the big stars were there... Well, OK, Jon Stewart was there and that was cool enough for me. He even mock pushed me aside to talk with the blushing bride, because she works in video games. Seriously, though I think Stephen and Jon may be a couple of the nicest guys in show business.

They are therefore doomed to failure.

I'm sorry, but somebody had to say it. If you swim with sharks, etc., etc.

The other folks in the photos are my parents and Stephen's lovely wife. I will leave determining which is which as an exercise to the reader.



Anyway, in the end the only Emmy Stephen won was for writing for the Daily Show, basically he lost to himself, which wasn't really so bad. However, he also lost to Barry Manilow, which is leading the rest of the family to return to pronouncing Colbert with a hard 't'.
I would like to believe that my father and I helped write Stephen's Emmy bit. It is not true, I don't think, but I choose to live in a reality in which I believe it to be so. When discussing the upcoming contest against Manilow, my father was almost screaming, "You can't lose to Manilow", while I added, "Wolverine, maybe, but not Manilow". I believe Stephen used that material and I expect a royalty check soon. In fact, in my reality, I got it already and used it to buy a new coat of paint for my Space Cruiser with optional Intergalactic Nav System. Sulu, set a course for Pleasure Planet 9.

Vrrrrooommmm!

Monday, August 28, 2006

The Hole is Dead, Long Live the Fence Post!

Well true believers, we all knew it would have to come to an end somewhere. One does not dig a hole just for the sake of hole-ness. Nature abhors a vacuum, even one filled with air. So after a full week of constant pick-work, digging and sweating, I completed my hole at about 10am Saturday morning. For the final hole images, please see the previous post which has the entire progress. From here on out this blog will post on the positive, seeing the hole half full, if you will. So we will not dwell on loss of the hole, but the fufillment of the dream of a world where dogs can run free without actually getting free.




So here is the fence post that was foretold in times of yore, both at a distance and close up where you can see the powdered Quikrete that was used to fill the hole. Oh, God... My poor hole... Sorry, sorry. I have pulled myself back together now.








This is what the hole looked like once I poured a bucket of water into the concrete/dirt/hole mixture, followed by what it looked like once the water had been fully absorbed and/or evaporated. I then waited another couple of hours for it to dry (it is called Quick crete), during which time I repaired a running toilet. Sadly, no footage of that exists. Let us just say that is was so beautiful that the angels wept.



















Then up with the fence. For this phase of the project I got some help from my mother, who came over for logistical and moral support. Things went really well for a while, until it became clear just how badly the tree had pushed up and bent the previous fence, particularly the left side in these pictures (North for those of you using a compass). Even after I reassembled every piece of fence, a substantial gap remained. Fortunately Pismo the uber-beast has been deemed "portly" by her vet, making a wriggling escape highly unlikely.



Finally I grabbed a spanking new fence board, cut it to fit the gap, and fit it seemlessly into the fence. You can't even tell where the odd hole was. I mean, at night you can't. If I leave the porch light off.

Oh, dear readers, I am afraid this is the end of the epic tale of Hole and Fence, although I am in negotiations with Stan the Man himself to have it adapted into graphic novel form. I think in the new version, I will be a buxom warrior princess with an aversion to clothing and the Hole will become some sort of Hentai, multi-penised monster, but other than that all things will remain true to my original vision.

Now, because you demanded it: Dog with a baseball cap on its head. Good Night!



Here is the entire progress of my hole, minus the first 3 days, when it was really more of a depression rather than a full-fledged hole. Enjoy. I recommend playing something nostalgic while viewing, like the perhaps the theme from Cheers or When We Were Kings.

August 23:

Still eating root. Sawdust trimmings falling in. This is a clearly still a substandard hole.







August 24:

Now this is getting somewhere. That is sweet, sweet dirt you can see on the bottom. That troublesome new root is coming in the top of the frame...




This is the same hole, but 180 degree different angle.









August 25:

Hey now... Starting to look nicely cavernous.











Same reverse shot as yesterday. Just look at the serious foot of solid hard wood I have gone through so far.








August 26:

There she is, in all her depthly glory. A post hole for the ages!











Final depth: 27.5 inches. I decided against shooting for the full 30 as it was going to make the final post too short. So this is closer to 30% underground rather than 1/3, as recommended on bags of Quikcrete everywhere.

Friday, August 25, 2006



The blog went a little screwey earlier today, so if you checked before -- and I am sure you did, as no one can get enough hole news -- you might have seen roughly six thousand copies of yesterday's final post. This has now been corrected.

So the latest update on the excavation (even I get tired of typing "hole" a thousand times... damn it, I typed it again!): I made an initial attempt at taking out the root cutting into hole from the bottom side of these photos. The root is actually coming in from the East if you want to orient yourself that way. The umbrella is to the east, my yard to the west, the street to the north and a round mother-to-be lies roughly North by Northwest. Insert George Kaplan reference here.

Anyway that root turned out to be a great deal of trouble. It kept going and going, leading me to suspect it is less a root and more the remains of the bottom of the tree. Even after excavating a large space to the east side of the hole, allowing swings to reach the pernicious root, I was able to do little more than knock a toothpick sized scrap off the bastard with every full pick swing. This lead rapidly to a tired and extra surley Colbert.

So I switched to a new tactic, widening the hole by about 1-2 inches to the west. This required chapping through another 12 inches of solid root, but because most of it was at the top of the hole, it was actually a much easier task. Easier, not necessarily easy. This does push the future fence out by 1-2 inches, but:

a) It is quite likely that I won't be able to notice 1-2 inches over that extent,
b) I can cut the fence down a little on the backside to make it fit better,
and
c) It is equally likely I didn't have it properly lined up in the first place. This could be a problem if it is now 4 inches out of line, but I eyeballed it and that doesn't look like that is the case.

If you are having trouble reading the measuring stick, the hole depth is almost 20 inches. 30 inches is the approximate target goal, although I will need to do some follow-up measurements of the surround fence posts for a final estimate. I feel good about Saturday.

Real good.

Don't forget to check out the latest progression of deepening hole pictures in the following blog entry, updated for today.

Now finally, for your viewing pleasure, a cat with a baseball helmet on its head:

Thursday, August 24, 2006


Good news on the hole front today. I got out there a half hour earlier and really put my time to good use. Got down to a level that was 100% dirt! Sadly, as I descended I discovered a root that was sliding in diagnally into the downward path of my hole. At the depth I've reached that is going to be a tough nut to crack (i.e. pick), but I got some ideas I will put into place tomorrow. In the meantime, here are some photos:

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Well I got some complaints that I have neglecting my blog. And I have. Something about trying to get work done and being highly distracting by my upcoming twinzapalooza.

Right now my focus in life has narrowed, laser beam-like, on digging a post hole in my backyard.

What follows is an epic tale of man against nature, in the tradition of Jack London. It is also a tale with strong existential overtones in the thematic style of a Camus. It will also contain at least one dick joke, just like an Eddie Murphy routine. Plus there will be pie.

Recently we came to the conclusion that the beautiful, old ash tree in our neighbor's yard had just grown too big for its britches. And more importantly, our smallish lots. Its roots were starting to undermine my foundation and the tree had already taken out the adjoining fence, which was being held up by nothing more than the giant tree. So, sad as it was to kill such a magnificent specimen of of the vegetable kingdom, it was my home or it. $2000 bucks and the scariest wood chipper I have ever seen (I am fairly certain you could toss a Buick Skylark in there without a hiccup in its rhythmic rrrrmmm) and the tree was gone. As was all the shade it provided. Nicely timed for August.

Anyway, as I already mentioned the tree had left the fence in tatters. As I had relatively recently constructed a small stretch of fence from scratch (which still looks good, I might add), I felt entirely confident I could sink a new fence post, attach the surviving piece of fence and then repair whatever holes remained. Bing, Bang, Boom, fence problem temporarily solved until we finally get around to replacing it entirely (the wood is not in good shape, crumbling at the edges).

I buy my 4x4 fence post. I buy my Quickcrete to secure said fencepost in place. I prepare my electric drill and screws for the attachment, securing of new fence pieces, etc. I warm up the power saw table and take inventory of the 2x4s I can use as needed. I am ready to tear this old fence a new one!

Now fence post digging can be a pain, as you need to place roughly 1/3 of your fence post underground to ensure it is properly anchored (i.e. won't tear a foot deep hole in the ground if you lean on it). So for a 5 foot high post, that is a 2.5 foot hole. This is also approximately the length of my arm if you throw in a bit of shoulder and the edge of a garden spade, something I verified experimentally when I put up the successful (and did I mention handsome?) fence. Now you can rent something call a post hole digger, but I only needed one hole. I figured I would be done in an hour. Tops.

Now someone with a bit of foresight might already have forseen the problem I rapidly developed. When digging a hole within a foot or two of a previoulsy existing 100-150 foot tree (it was damn big), it would not in the least bit be surprising to find some roots. Big, thick roots. Like logs, buried in the ground. After approximately 5 minutes of shoveling, it became clear there was no root free place along the line of the fence. I would have to cut through the roots or abandon/rethink the project.

I made the wrong choice. Cutting through roots basically requires a pick axe, which I borrowed from my father. I think it had been in my family for a generation, as it lasted about 5 minutes before the wood in the handle split. One sad attempt at repair later (I tried reattaching the head with screws...it sorta worked. It also sorta put me in constant danger with each swing of the pick axe of losing a toe). So to OSH I went, returning proudly with my spanking new pick axe, which now uses plastic to reinforce the wood around the pick head. Thirty sweaty minutes later (did I mention it was August and not cool and my shade tree was gone?) and 2 inches of excavated hole later, I knew this was going to be a substantial undertaking.

A weaker man (i.e. smarter) would have again taken the opportunity to abandon the project, hire someone to complete it for them, reworked the problem... really anything would be better than going forward. But I was determined.

And by determined I mean bull-headedly stubborn. The hole would be mine!

So now it has become my morning exercise. I get up, watch 20-30 minutes of TV to shake out the cobwebs, throw on some work clothes, and pick that hole for all I am worth (~30 minutes). When I feel close to collapse due to a combination of fatigue and heat exhaustion (something I could avoid by getting up earlier... file that under thing #2456 that would be better if I could get my ass out of bed earlier), I crawl back inside, shower and head off to work.

The hole is now nearly a foot deep, and its diameter is over a foot, depending on where you measure it. The roots get softer and less dense as I go deeper, but it gets harder and harder to swing the pick axe. So I have to widen the hole to allow for the pick axe swings. I think by the time I am done it will look like a blast crater. My latest excavation definitely uncovered several square inches of pure, easily removed soil, so I am greatly encouraged. I am hoping one more day of picking will allow me to get down deep enough so that the roots are soft enough that they can be attacked with a garden spade. After that, it should finish very quickly. Kock on wood. I have plenty of that, anyway.

I am not sure what I will do after I complete this crazy little project. It is certain to leave a vacuum in my life. Or dare I say, a hole?

No, I really shouldn't have dared, but that is what you get for reading a blog entirely about digging one hole. And sorry, I lied about the pie.