One of the big stories of the past week of baseball has been the questionable quality of the umpiring, so I contacted the American Umpiring Institute to see if I could glean any insight about some of the more controversial calls.  I received a cordial reply from Dr. Klaus von Aushall, who acts as a public relations liaison for the Institute, and here are his answers to some of my questions:

The Connoisseur: Let’s start with a general overview question: what the Sam Hill is going on with the umpiring in the playoff games thus far?

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: You ask a valid question, but what you might not know is just how thorough our umpires’ training is.  There are many things that the lay fan does not realize about how difficult an umpire’s job is, and in recent years, we’ve incorporated some of the most cutting-edge thinking in the fields of sports, arbitration, and modern physics to make our umpires the most well-rounded and forward-thinking in the world.

The Connoisseur: The sports and arbitration seem reasonably well-defined, but it seems that the normal Newtonian classical mechanics would be sufficient for the job of officiating a major-league baseball game …

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Ah, a common misconception.  Take, for example, the foul ball call on Joe Mauer’s drive down the left field line.

The Connoisseur: Yes, that’s a call I had in mind.

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Did you realize that the Earth, with a circumference of approximately 25,000 miles, rotates on its axis in just under 24 hours?  This means that a point on the equator is traveling nearly 0.29 miles per SECOND.  Translated into feet, this is more than 1500 feet per second.  Now, New York is at approximately the 40 degree mark in latitude, meaning that the rotation speed is no more than three-quarters of this, but the point is, in just one millisecond, the foul line in New Yankee Stadium will have rotated over a foot.  Accounting for this, it is perfectly reasonable to think that you saw the ball about to land fair, but in reality, it was a FOUL ball, and then, in a millisecond, the Earth rotated underneath it, making it APPEAR to land on the other side of the foul line.  It is this kind of understanding of rotational mechanics that separates the lay fan from one of our umpires.

The Connoisseur: Wait, didn’t the ball have the same initial rotational velocity …

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: And think: if the umpire hadn’t been situated right there on the base line, how many more milliseconds might have gone by: the ball might have landed in the stands, or center field, depending on the orientation of the stadium.

The Connoisseur: That … that doesn’t make any sense at all.  And isn’t that just classical mechanics, anyway?

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Yes, but what about the call with the ball appearing to brush Brandon Inge’s jersey in the Game 163 play-in game?

The Connoisseur: Again, this appears to be a question of inelastic collisions.

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Only to the small-minded cretin.  Instead, consider this in terms of quantum mechanical probability functions.  In fact, what you had there was the exceedingly rare, but still non-zero probability, example of quantum tunnelling.

The Connoisseur: Quantum what?

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Yes, see, this is just the sort of thing non-umpires cannot easily comprehend: in fact, this was a case in which the wave functions of the ball and Inge’s jersey produced an unlikely, but perfectly mathematically consistent, result in which the ball actually traveled THROUGH the jersey without producing any interaction effects.

The Connoisseur: You mean, it went through the jersey … without touching the jersey.

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Exactly.

The Connoisseur: What are the chances of that?

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: It happens more often than you’d think.

The Connoisseur: It couldn’t possibly happen LESS often than I think.

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: You said it, not me.

The Connoisseur: About the other “ball strikes body” play …

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Chase Utley hitting the ball off his leg?

The Connoisseur: Yes, that’s a foul ball, right?

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Ah, but here, we need to take into account the lessons of string theory.

The Connoisseur: String theory?

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Yes, in these cases, it is incumbent on the umpire to discern whether contact was made in at least 8 of the 11 dimensions string theory describes.

The Connoisseur: 8 of 11?

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: It isn’t quite the three-fourths we like in general, but it is the lowest number of dimensions we can use and still get a super-majority of more than two-thirds.

The Connoisseur: So the ball hit Utley …

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: In no more than 6 dimensions.  The replays, run through the metaoscillohydroheliospectroscope, clearly show this.

The Connoisseur: Clearly.

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Without a shadow of a doubt.

The Connoisseur: No doubt.

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: It’s true.

The Connoisseur: Does the umpire have access to one of these devices during the game?

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: No, but then, we would hate to remove any of the human element from the game.

The Connoisseur: And so when you say, “six dimensions,” would that include the three visible spatial dimensions and the one measurable forward-linear time dimension?

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Yes, well, this cannot be helped: it is why having an experienced umpire behind the plate is so crucial, to be able to distinguish what the lay fan cannot.

The Connoisseur: And the subsequent missing of the call at first base, where Utley was out anyway?

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Ah, another common misconception.  Here, the relevant principle is relativistic effects.  Because we are using light rays, photon streams, if you will, to give us the necessary biofeedback to give us the input necessary to make our decisions.  But if the Lorentz Transformation is incorrectly applied, you’ll end up making the wrong call.

The Connoisseur: I wasn’t aware that relativity needed to be applied here.

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Well, yes: he was relatively safe.

The Connoisseur: Does this help explain the calls with Kevin Youkilis at first base with Howie Kendrick?

Dr. Klaus von Aushall: Well, that’s just a putrid call.  It happens, y’know?

The Connoisseur: Yeah.  As a matter of fact, I do.

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.

The Playoffs have begun, and no one covers them quite like TBS. Especially if the Yankees are involved …the names of the TBS broadcasters have been changed to protect the innocent…their families. But not the fans!

Bill: Welcome to another beautiful evening in New York City from the shrine that is the New Yankee Stadium. Here at TBS, we strive to bring you the best in baseball entertainment, and nothing says “Best” quite like our obsequious fawning.

Ted: You mean, “Being allowed to share a bit of spacetime continuum with the splendor that is the New York Yankees,” right, Bill?

Bill: Right you are, Ted. Here at TBS, we recognize the greatest media market, er, city in the world, the only city that stands out in the entire continent of North America, except maybe Los Angeles, which is pretty good.

Ted: And Boston, I don’t think you can leave Boston out of that calculus, Bill.

Bill: How truthily true that is, Ted. Boston is second-rate, but at least it is not Minnesota, which is theoretically a state of some sort.

Ted: Possibly a Canadian province.

Bill: We’ll get our crack research staff to look into that. In the meantime, let’s take you to the action on the field, where C.C. Sabathia is trying to overcome the stigma of years past, failing in each of his previous post-season appearances to be a New York Yankee.

Ted: That’s not entirely his fault, of course.

Bill: No, he was drafted by one of those Midwestern teams and toiled in obscurity. Thankfully for us, and more importantly for him, he was rescued and is here with us tonight, where he can shine on the biggest stage of them all, a virtual Taj Mahal of baseball stadiums, but nicer.

Ted: Hard to get a good hot dog at the Taj Mahal.

Bill: Especially one made with beef.

Ted: Now, it should be pointed out that Sabathia wasn’t entirely obscure in his previous stop. He did, in fact, win the Cy Young Award in 2007.

Bill: Did he do it for the New York Yankees?

Ted: He did not, Bill.

Bill: Then it hardly matters, does it? In any event, Sabathia gives up a gift double to Denard Span, then … strikes out Joe Mauer! He struck out Joe Mauer! I hope this puts an end to all of that “Mauer for MVP” nonsense the bloggers in their mothers’ basements have been spouting recently. To be the MVP, you have to come up big on the biggest big stage, with biggie bigness and big biggity big.

Ted: Like Derek Jeter, who has singled to open the bottom of the first on the very first pitch he saw. What a big hit!

Bill: Or even Mark Teixeira, who has now advanced Jeter to second base with a productive out. There’s nothing more productive than an MVP candidate first baseman who is producing those productive outs, is there, Ted?

Ted: Well, it’s certainly more productive than Alex Rodriguez, who flies out to end the inning. Rodriguez is probably the worst post-season player of his generation, and also pan-fries puppies in his spare time.

Bill: It is a shame to saddle a player as clutch and as much of a winner as Derek Jeter with such an anchor as Alex Rodriguez there, Ted. To the third we go, where Minnesota has somehow managed to score two runs off Sabathia. Is this his Cleveland past coming back to haunt him?

Ted: I think any time spent in Cleveland is going to haunt you there, Bill. Cleveland is a city of some sort, I think.

Bill: We’ll check with our crack research staff and get back to you there, Ted. So the Yankees come to the plate and … DEREK JETER! TWO-RUN HOMER BY DEREK JETER!

Ted: Wow, Bill, that was clutch.

Bill: That wasn’t just clutch, Ted, that was possibly the most-important homer since Kirk Gibson’s off Dennis Eckersley!

Ted: Again, the Cleveland past: it haunts us all.

Bill: What can you say about Derek Jeter that hasn’t been said before? Nothing, that’s what! So we will say them all again! Jeter! Derek! Bigness! Jeterrific!

Ted: And Alex Rodriguez makes another out.

Bill: Fie on you, Alex Rodriguez! You are garbage!

Ted: A jackanape.

Bill: A rube!

Ted: Has he played in Cleveland?

Bill: He played in some meaningless western cities, it hardly matters. The Twins go down in order, and one thing you notice, Ted, is how involved the Yankees are in this game. They never stop analyzing the pitcher, talking with each other and passing on tips on how to attack Denny Briansong.

Ted: I think his name is Brian there, Bill.

Bill: Brian Briansong, then. That’s a very unfortunate name there, Ted. What are they thinking out there in Minnesota?

Ted: Probably how much they want to move to New York, although, as it turns out, Brian is from Kansas, not Minnesota.

Bill: I don’t understand your point there, Ted. Isn’t Minnesota part of Kansas?

Ted: No, Canada.

Bill: It all looks the same from thirty thousand feet, Ted. Anyway, Swisher doubles home a run, that gives the Yankees a 3-2 lead. The Twins go meekly in the 5th, and … Oh, my! Derek Jeter draws an absolutely HEROIC walk there, Ted!

Ted: That kind of patience is almost UNHEARD of, Bill, except for six other hitters in the New York lineup. And look at that heads-up baserunning, moving up from first to second on a ground ball. That’s the kind of hyper-attentive veteran leadership this man gives his team. Without Derek Jeter, baseball itself would be impossible.

Bill: I can barely see the shortstop, Ted, because of the beatific halo glowing around Jeter … and Alex Rodriguez drives him home with a single! It’s official, Ted. Alex Rodriguez has turned his entire career around!

Ted: Now we can start to talk of Rodriguez as one of the better players in the A.L. East, Bill. I think the monkey is officially off his back. Puppies everywhere are feeling safer tonight!

Bill: Yes, Alex Rodriguez is now possibly a pretty good player, thanks to Derek Jeter’s heads-up baserunning to cross home plate there instead of veering off at the last minute. Oh, and Hideki Matsui hit a homer.

Ted: Who?

Bill: He’s a Yankee, Ted. Everyone knows who Matsui is, he plays for New York.

Ted: Yes, of course, I was still reviewing the Jeter run.

Bill: Boy, Briansong has really put on a lot of weight this inning, Ted.

Ted: No, no, that’s a different guy. They changed pitchers.

Bill: Why bother? Resistance is futile.

Ted: Well, so are the Twins, Bill. Although I have to say, Nick Punto really plays the game the right way, and Ron Gardenhire has one of the gruffest playoff beards I’ve seen.

Bill: Well, it’s hockey country there, Ted. Maybe he thinks it’s the Stanley Cup.

Ted: The what?

Bill: Never mind. And Nick Swisher makes an ASTONISHING catch there of Span’s routine fly ball with two men on, that is really just the kind of focused, fundamental play that people don’t give the Yankees enough credit for making.

Ted: Is it possible to give the Yankees enough credit, Bill?

Bill: It is not. So Phil Hughes comes in and … IT’S STRIKE THREE! STRIKE THREE! He got him swinging! He is the greatest relief pitcher not named Mariano Rivera since Mariano Rivera!

Ted: Wait, does that even make sense?

Bill: No, it does not! And Jeter walks again! Jeter is simply on another planet tonight, Ted!

Ted: But one that plays baseball the way it ought to be played, Bill.

Bill: Right you are, Ted! And Jeter … is NOT thrown out at third on the productive double-play grounder by Teixeira there, Ted! What a play! What a man! Nay, not a man, a veritable GOD.

Ted: And he scores on Rodriguez’ single. You know, I’m thinking that with a few more years of Jeter’s benevolent stewardship, this Rodriguez fellow might be considered in the same breath as other pretty good coattail riders, like Joe Rudi or Mike Lowell.

Bill: We’ll have to wait and see. After a single to Mauer, HUGHES GETS ANOTHER STRIKEOUT! What a pitcher, Ted! We’re going to see Phil Coke now.

Ted: And he gets the batter with one pitch. Looks like he’s gassed, Joe, better take him out.

Bill: Thankfully, Joe Girardi is watching the same game we are, and thank goodness he is, because Yankee Stadium in New York City is really the only place to be tonight. If you’re not here, you’re pretty much a worthless schmoe.

Ted: Unless they’re watching us, it’s the next best thing to being here.

Bill: Well, that goes without saying, but really, they ought to be here.

Ted: Tickets cost four hundred thousand dollars apiece.

Bill: Gracious, that seems like a bargain for being part of this once-in-a-lifetime experience, Ted. Until Friday, at which point, there will be another experience.

Ted: That will also be once-in-a-lifetime, I can feel it.

Bill: It’s true, and then Game three will be played in Kansas.

Ted: Canada.

Bill: Right. Anyway, Joba Chamberlain … two pitches later … another gassed reliever, Ted.

Ted: Joe Girardi is really using his staff masterfully tonight. And he brings in Mariano Rivera.

Bill: Who is godlike.

Ted: That goes without saying.

Bill: Although still not quite Derek Jeter.

Ted: Well, who is?

Bill: He did give up a couple baserunners there, Ted.

Ted: Yes, but when it really mattered, when the clutchy clutchness was biggie big clutchy bigness, and the chips are down, and you see what you’re made of, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere, although why would you, because you’re already here, New York, New York, God Bless America, the ghosts of Yankee Magic, monkeys monkeys monkeys monkeys monkeys, off the back for good, third out, game over, Yankees win, thuhhhhhhhhh Yankees win!

Bill: You can’t say that. It’s trademarked.

Ted: I got carried away there, Bill.

Bill: Understandable. Derek Jeter!

Ted: Clearly the MVP.

Bill: Right you are, Ted. Until Friday, remember: TBS.

Ted: Very funny.

Bill: And Derek Jeter!

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.

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.