Save Us From the Save

I was watching the Royals on TV with a girlfriend the other day, and the dreaded baseball questioning started.

"Why is there a mound? Why is it a manager and not a coach? Where's the other earflap on the batting helmet? What does RBI stand for? Why do they keep track of that?"

You probably have two questions at this point: are there still Royals fans out there? And is the girl cute — and available?

Yes, yes, and yes (but hopefully not for long).

Nevertheless, like any other man who likes to concentrate on his baseball games (think Vince Vaughn in "The Break Up"), I was annoyed. It's your typical girl who wants to learn about the game, but is so far behind that she would make better use of her time by fixing up some buffalo wings.

So to try to give her a dose of her own medicine, I sat and watched "What Not to Wear" with her on TLC.

Every 30 seconds, I interrupted and asked, "Why do they say the ruffled shirt looks better? How does green make her look skinny? Wasn't that guy in 'Big Daddy'?"

She didn't seem annoyed at all — in fact, she enjoyed that I was showing interest. Damn. But even worse, I got sick so sick of it that I got up and left.

Inevitably, the next day she wanted to watch the game with me again. She sat down and began asking questions again. Up to this point, I had been able to give answers for every question she had. But then she asked a question that got me.

It was while I was taking my first bite of the buffalo wings she had made for me. They showed highlights of yesterday's game and talked about Royals closer Ambiorix Burgos.

"Why do they bring in a closer for the ninth inning?" she asked.

I began to answer the questions, but I realized that she was on to something here. Why do they bring in a closer? Is it that much harder to get those three outs in the ninth inning? And if the setup man is throwing so well, why take him out?

I fell into a trance and got lost in this life-altering question.

***

I thought about all the situations that the save statistic has hurt a team. For example, let's say you're playing the Red Sox and you're up by two runs in the ninth inning. There are two outs and David Ortiz is up to bat with a man on first.

Your closer hasn't been throwing too well, and Ortiz has a career .350 average against him. But your closer might be able to get the save here, so you leave him in. But why? Why not bring in a left-handed specialist to get that final out?

I know why — because it's entirely taboo to take out your closer if he hasn't yet blown the save.

Now, I appreciate the fact that someone like Mariano Rivera strikes fear in the hearts of opposing teams when they're down by one in the ninth. But because of the save, Rivera only pitches one inning at a time. Why can't someone so dominant pitch two or three innings, like the old days?

In fact, why can't you have two or three closers on a team? That way, you can shorten a game by more than one inning and pitch certain guys on situations that best fit them.

It's entirely false that only the elite relievers have the mindset needed to be a closer. There are plenty of pitchers out there with a closer mindset. Billy Beane would appreciate this. In fact, he's probably already figured out that the save is one of the most overrated statistics in the game today. He's probably just grooming Huston Street so that he can trade him away for three guys who can do the same thing, but for much less money.

Nowadays, closers get about one save for a every two innings they pitch. In the olden days, a "closer" or "stopper" would get one save for every three-four innings they pitched. Players like Dennis Eckersley and Goose Gossage would be brought in and taken out when needed — not put in the game just to earn a save.

When announcers say, "Here's a save situation — we have the closer warming up in the pen," I just cringe. Who decided that a three runs lead was the point where you need a closer?

If the save is the ruler by which we measure relievers, then Lee Smith is the Hank Aaron of closers. But we all know that's not the case. Aaron was great. Smith is just the answer to a trivia question.

So here's my solution: instead of using the save to measure a reliever's performance, use a stat called "innings saved."

I would define "innings saved" as:

The number of innings a pitcher completes in which his team is leading by three runs or less. A pitcher is only eligible for an "inning saved" if it is the sixth inning or later, and he is not the starting pitcher.

Apologies for the lack of eloquence there, but simply put, it is a stat that would keep track of how many valuable innings a reliever pitches en route to a win. I don't want the save done away with, but I do want this statistic to be a big part of the way relief pitchers are judged.

It would be the on-base percentage of relief pitching — the next big thing! I'll write a book about it, titled Moneyball 2! And after reading my book, GMs would be in hot pursuit of Rheal Cormier, Scott Eyre, and Rafael Soriano — all great setup men.

Oh, how great life would be…

***

I break out of my trance.

The Royals are already down by three and the girlfriend is still sitting next to me. Fifteen minutes have passed and she's been silent the whole time. Then she gets that looks on her face — you know, the one where they want to say something, but are waiting for you to make eye-contact with them.

"Oh, I get why they have a closer. I'll bet only some people can take all that pressure ... and plus, they always say you should save the best for last."

That's the thing with girls — they build you up then break you down.

A few more innings pass and the Royals come back to tie it up and send the game to the 10th inning. Burgos comes in to save the game, and I say to myself, "Well I guess he's here to prove me wrong ... the save is important."

But, of course, he blew the save and the Royals took out Joe Nelson after only 1.2 innings earlier in the game. Nelson had only allowed one hit and is one of the best pitchers in their pen (22.2 IP, 1.19 ERA, 21 games). I'd seen this before with many other teams, so it made me wonder whether I was on to something.

Before I could figure out whether this stat would actually help in any way, I began to realize the importance of the save: fan appeal.

A lot of these stats are for the fans — saves, hitting streaks, batting average...

These stats don't help win games. The only things that win games are runs and outs, and these stats don't accurately measure either of those. But these stats help people like me spend hours upon hours contemplating something so miniscule.

So in the end, I'll come to terms with the save, find ways to avoid watching games with the girl, and find a way to make her act like she's more interested in me than the game. But in the meantime, Burgos will blow a few more saves and I'll be here wondering why that left-handed specialist isn't jogging out of the pen.