(Should Have Been) Hidden Plays

I’m a big fan of Gregg Easterbrook, who writes the regular “Tuesday Morning Quarterback” series for ESPN (Actually, I think he writes it for Gregg Easterbrook, but I happen to read it on ESPN’s website). I admire his ability to write clearly, insightfully, and humorously, if not exactly “concisely.” I say this because the average TMQ column clocks in at just under THREE HUNDRED SIXTY THOUSAND WORDS. Really, now. This is not a column you take into the bathroom. This is a column you take to the DMV, a cricket test match, or maybe a Steve Trachsel start, which is kind of the same thing. This is not a column for the faint of attention span.

One of the newer features he’s begun including in his column is “Hidden Plays,” which is a fine concept, and one that is especially useful in a football setting. I was thinking of this heading when going over the Cleveland-Chicago game on Monday, because you might have read something relatively innocuous from the AP writeup:

They loaded the bases on three consecutive one-out singles — then scored three times without hitting a ball out of the infield.

Okay, sure. This kind of thing happens in baseball, right? There are lots of ways to score. You don’t need all sorts of flashy power to score runs. But if you watch the actual plays in question, you realize: there’s a lot more to it than this. These are kind of like Easterbrook’s “Hidden Plays.” Except for two things:

1) They were run-scoring plays, hence in Plain Sight
2) They were horrific and should have been hidden

First, let’s set the stage a bit more completely: the White Sox actually loaded the bases with only one out. Now, with one out, there are lots of ways to score a runner from third base. A fly ball to the outfield, a slow ground ball (to avoid the double play), a hit, a walk … with one out, your options are wide open. However, Aaron Laffey got Jayson Nix to watch strike three from the comfort of the batter’s box and now the ChiSox need an Actual Hit to score a run.

To the plate strides Brent Lillibridge, sporting a spiffy .143 AVG and a keen .169 SLG. Lillibridge was once a highly-regarded shortstop prospect for the Braves, enough so that there was serious discussion as to whether it would be him or Elvis Andrus as the Braves SS of the Future, to which the correct answer ended up being “None of the Above.” Since then, though, his star has waned considerably, and in 175 career big-league PAs, Lillibridge is “hitting” .181/.256/.263, which is obviously lousy for a shortstop. What makes this all the more astonishing is that Lillibridge has appeared in 11 games as a CENTER FIELDER for the White Sox. Well, I mean, this WOULD be astonishing if you didn’t know a bit about Chicago’s center fielding the past three seasons:

2007: Luis Terrero .222/.345/.373, Jerry Owens .267/.324/.312, Darin Erstad .249/.311/.337
2008: Ken Griffey Jr. .260/.347/.405, Brian Anderson .232/.272/.436
2009: Owens .083/.267/.083, Anderson .238/.322/.319, Dewayne Wise .220/.259/.348, Alex Rios .178/.213/.287

Griffey’s line isn’t completely horrific, although Cleveland fans were disappointed when they got that line from their SHORTSTOP Jhonny Peralta. But if you were wondering why a guy with Lillibridge’s line would be playing CF, the answer is, “Because he fits right in.” He is terrible. Which sets him apart in no way whatsoever, except that his enormous jutting ears allow him to fly around in center field.

In any event, pitching to Brent Lillibridge is kind of the Best Case Scenario for a pitcher with the bases loaded and two outs. Brent Lillibridge is the Ben Wallace Free Throw of hitting. And sure enough, Lillbridge hit a weak ground ball to third base. Wait, did I say “weak?” This ball transcended “weak.” It was so feeble, so impotent, so Cleveland Browns Offense that Jhonny Peralta, charging the ball, became so distracted by its beachball-like qualities that he allowed it to bounce harmlessly off his frying pan and Lillibridge collected an ersatz RBI single, increasing his RBI total on the season to one.

This brought the ever-dangerous top of the White Sox order to the plate in the guise of Dewayne Wise. Did I mention that Wise is hitting .220/.259/.348 this season? Before the game, he was hitting .211 with a .246 OBP. And he was LEADING OFF. Why was this? Because Richard Nixon was a Quaker. Because yak’s milk is pink. Because mares eat oats and kids eat oats. I have no earthly idea why Dewayne Wise was leading off. These random facts are completely irrelevant to gaining insight into Ozzie Guillen’s thought process here, but although I will admit that Guillen is a far better manager than I would be, I would claim that the number of facts that apply to the question “should Dewayne Wise lead off” is ONE, and that is, “Does Dewayne Wise have a higher on-base percentage than a freshly-tased koala bear,” and the answer to that question is, “No.” Dewayne Wise cannot hit a baseball, but it is not from any lack of effort: he had 3 walks in 132 AB, meaning that Wise’s sole requirement for considering a pitch a good thing to swing at is “movement.” Perhaps Wise is part amphibian and can only sense motion. In any event, just about any pitch you throw him in the vicinity of the plate, Wise will probably turn into an out.

Alas, Aaron Laffey’s strategy was more esoteric, and instead of throwing a pitch over the plate, he threw the pitch into Wise’s body, and Wise collected his 10th RBI of the season by cleverly exhibiting the rare baseball skill of being solid matter.

At this point, the Humorous Interlude portion of the Sox order has been exhausted, and Actual Hitter Gord Beckham came to the plate. Beckham hit a routine ground ball up the middle, but shaded to the second base side, where Jamey Carroll was able to display his average range and catch the ball. And with the seasoned aplomb of the season veteran he is, he proceeded to show off the seasoned throwing arm of a sodden cardboard catapult, and rocketed the ball to second base at roughly pillbug speed, where Wise beat the throw.

This was considered an “infield single.”

Now, decisions like this fascinate me. What can we conclude from this decision? Can we conclude that the official scorer was distracted by the four hundred fans in attendance? Can we safely assume that the scorer likes Jamey Carroll more than he likes Aaron Laffey? Carroll is, among other things, a completely adorable ballplayer. I admit this. And perhaps my view of the play from MLB.com made the throw look slower than it really was. But great Caesar’s haircut, that looked like it should have been an out.

And this, boys and girls, is how you give up three two-out runs without actually allowing anyone to hit the ball with any authority whatsoever. Perhaps next time we will tackle a more confounding topic, like “Why Kyle Farnsworth?”

Steve Buffum works as a data cudgeller in Austin, TX, where he lives with his wife and three children. He writes a regular column for The Cleveland Fan and remembers his knees fondly.