The following piece came to my attention yesterday, and it was so good that I offered it a guest spot on our firm’s weblog. It’s by Robert Churchill, an acquaintance of ours who is an engineer by trade and also one of the sharpest amateur baseball aficionados we know of. It’s clear that few people in the world would claim to love Barry Bonds. But in light of his breaking Hank Aaron’s home run record this week, and in line with our contrarian tendencies, it seemed fitting to post a piece that runs so counter to prevailing sentiment. I like this one because it employs thoughtful analysis in order to draw historical comparisons and insights, and no-holds-barred philosophizing that questions some of the background assumptions we make and encounter every day (both favorite past times of ours). Our investment philosophy includes the belief that unusual value tends to be found outside of the mainstream. While you may not agree with everything–or anything!–that Bob has written here, we think his article still embodies that idea rather well, and we hope it stimulates some conversation. Enjoy!
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I Love Barry Bonds!
Robert Churchill © 2007
I love Barry Bonds. That’s right, I said it. I watched him play in Pittsburgh at the beginning of his career. He hit for power and average. He could steal 30-50 bases a year. He used his speed and savvy to cover left field efficiently enough to overcome his less than stellar arm. Yeah, I let him hear it one evening when he let an easy fly ball pop out of his glove and nonchalantly tossed it back in, but I showed up to the ballpark often just to see him. He won the MVP in both ‘90 and ‘92. Was he warm and fuzzy? Nope. That was Bobby Bonilla. Was Bonds frustrated at having to spend so many early years hitting leadoff? Check. Especially after watching Bonilla leave Pittsburgh when he couldn’t get a decent contract, he stated that he was going to hit homers and drive in runs "to get paid." That he did. Did Jim Leland get on his case? Sure. Did Bonds deserve such treatment? Probably. Was he a prickly SOB with an epic sense of entitlement? Almost certainly.
Then he went to San Francisco and gradually moved from being a star to a superstar. He won another MVP in ‘93. Lots of walks. Lots of home runs and other extra base hits. Solid averages.
Then came all the love for McGwire and Sosa. None for Barry. Then he got mad. Then he became a legend. Four straight MVPs starting in ‘01. Then records for home runs, slugging average, on-base percentage, and OPS. Often with little protection in the order. He is so dangerous and so feared he has more walks and twice as many intentional walks as any other player in history. The awesome playoff and World Series performance finally came in ‘02.
He worked hard. He wore out exercise partners. He showed up sober and on time. Whatever issues may have been going on in his personal life didn’t flow obviously into the headlines. He didn’t gamble. He didn’t get into fights in nightclubs. He didn’t get shot. He didn’t wreck cars.
I have a lot of sympathy for a guy who thinks he deserves a shot to hit in a more advantageous spot in the order. I can understand the frustration when the public showered adulation on guys like McGwire and Sosa who, while talented, were not nearly the complete ballplayer he was. I can understand the frustration of having to answer the same stupid questions from reporters over and over day after day week after week month after month year after year… Would it be easier to be mellow and nice and Ripkenesque? Yeah. But what if that’s just not your personality? Not everyone has the personality and outlook of Tony Gwynn. Adults pay for the way they act, and I can handle that. So can Barry Bonds.
He lost roughly a quarter of a spectacular season to the strike in 1994. Add in a few more home runs and he’d already have the record. Oh yeah, and Bonds didn’t start in the Majors until he was 21.
So let’s compare Barry Bonds to the two other baseball legends that are part of the current conversation.
Babe Ruth hit more home runs in fewer at bats than anybody. He set all sorts of records. He towered above every other player of his time. He should have been credited with a 715th home run due to a rule change having to do with driving in runs at the end of a game. He would be credited with even more if fair-foul calls were made the way they are now where the ball only has to be fair when it crosses the outfield wall. He would have hit far more if he had played in one of the postage stamp ballparks found in other cities and in other times. He was a pitcher for the first five or six years of his career. And a damned good one. Even late in his career, if only as a novelty, he could still throw complete game shutouts. He had a career batting average of .342. He was a larger than life character who was amazingly generous to fans and children. He could often play well after staying out all night getting plowed off his bazoo. He made the sport of professional baseball, and to some degree all professional sports, what they are today. The man was just a beast. And I mean that in the best way!
Ruth played on great teams with great supporting players. He played in an era where batting averages were high, lots of runs were produced, and where there weren’t legions of specialist, weightlifting, steriod-swilling pitchers who could throw 95-100 mph in the late innings. Babe Ruth never played against the many talented black players that were relegated to the Negro Leagues, nor against the many great Latin players that came along at the same time.
Hank Aaron set his records, and they are voluminous, during the era of the pitcher. By 1968, the pitchers had become so dominant that the sport had to lower the pitcher’s mound. From 1962 through 1989 exactly two players hit as many as 50 home runs in a season. There were more specialist pitchers and fewer complete games. He stole a decent number of bases, played the field well, and racked up RBIs (1st), runs (3rd), hits (3rd), extra-base hits (1st), and total bases (1st) in incredible numbers. Steadily. Year after year. On good teams and bad. Relentlessly. Like a force of nature. He played the last two seasons as a designated hitter with much-reduced power but still racking up 60-plus runs and nearly 100 RBIs. He did this in far more plate appearances and at-bats than either Ruth or Bonds.
And that’s just comparing Bonds to Aaron and Ruth. There are other players worthy of mention in this conversation. Ted Williams racked up walks at the same rate, hit home runs at the same rate, and scored and drove in runs at a greater rate. He missed four and a half seasons when he served as a fighter pilot in WWII and Korea. His average was also 40-plus points higher than Bonds’ (as Kevin Costner’s character points out in "Bull Durham," that’s about one hit per week…), and he could easily be regarded as the greatest batter in history. Babe Ruth remains the legend but Williams compares favorably with anyone in the modern era. How about Jimmy Foxx? His numbers are comparable to anyone’s for the 14 seasons he was actually healthy. Willie Mays? Really a bit behind, but spectacular nonetheless. Alex Rodriguez? If he doesn’t get hurt he’ll put up some amazing numbers. He doesn’t seem to rack them up at such amazing rates, though, and he strikes out more and doesn’t get on base as much. Even at 43 Bond’s OPS [on base plus slugging] is over 1.000. By any stretch that’s just amazing.
The kinds of observations that are possible, comparing lifetimes of numbers from different eras, is part of what makes the game so interesting, and even, if I may, magical.
But outside of the magic, baseball also exists in the real world. This leads us to many considerations, not least of which is that steroid thing. Did Bonds do them? Did he do so knowingly? While we can’t say with absolute certainty, given what w
e know such a conclusion is all but inescapable. However, it also appears likely that several hundred of his peers did the same. That means not only other batters, but also other pitchers.
You don’t get much in this life–a mind and a body to do with what you can. Taking many types of drugs only limits the use of the gifts with which one is blessed and which one will need to face a life that is difficult enough already. But what of performance-enhancing drugs? On a purely philosophical level, why is a well-managed program of steroids or HGH, which are often prescribed legally, different from getting laser eye surgery? Why is it different from getting Tommy John surgery, a procedure that makes a throwing arm stronger than it was originally? Looking at other sorts of medical advances, what might Sandy Koufax or Gayle Sayers have achieved given the current state of medical technology?
Why are any of these things different than enhancing vision with a well-chosen pair of colored contact lenses? Mark McGwire tested dozens of pairs. What about the arm protection some batters employ to allow them to crowd the stike zone? How about the streamlined handlebars and tires used by cyclists starting in the mid-80s?
Why are steroids different from cold medicine? Doesn’t that enhance perfomance by letting a player take the field when he might otherwise be incapacitated by a hacking cough, watery eyes, and a vicious case of post-nasal drip? If one is restoring a player to normal and one is making normal a little better, who’s to say what’s right? Look at the controversy explored in the movie "Chariots of Fire." At one time it was deemed inappropriate to even use the services of professional trainers to improve performance. One wouldn’t want England’s sons to fail to look like they could win "with the effortlessness of gods." Look at the resistance players like Nolan Ryan got to lifting weights. When the competitive breast- and side-stroking swimmers of 1840’s Europe first encountered versions of "the crawl" exhibited by the much-faster natives of the Americas, West Africa, and the Pacific Islands, the new methods were regarded as uncivilized thrashing. Of course, they were eventually and inevitably adopted. Things change.
We must also ask just what effect such substances have on baseball players. For certain strength and endurance sports the benefits appear to be clear. EPO and blood doping clearly enhance performance in endurance sports. But in baseball? Yeah, a player can train harder, recover more quickly, and hit or throw a bit harder, but remember that Hank Aaron and his friends wiled away their youthful summer nights hitting bottle caps with a broomstick. He played in the major leagues. His friends did not. There’s something about elite athletes at high levels that separate them from the rest of humanity. Basketball players need height for obvious reasons. Swimmers need that, too. If a male swimmer is less than about 6′ 5" he can pretty much forget being competitive on the international level. It’s simply a question of geometry. Female gymnasts, of course, must be quite compact, and the intense training during their youth changes their bodies even further in that direction. Sumo wrestlers must be large. Height helps golfers hit the ball farther. Height, combined with witdth but also minimal depth, make one ski jumper fly farther than the next. Matti Nuknen won many competitions, including gold in Calgary, in part because he was shaped like a door. Other activities favor certain body geometries in even more subtle ways, like the ratio of upper- to lower-leg length for cyclists. It should come as no surprise that Lance Armstrong is perfectly proportioned in this way.
But those considerations are only part of the battle. A certain type of hand-eye coordination and body kinesthetic awareness have a huge amount to do with an athlete’s success. Can anyone doubt that Wayne Gretzky or Mario Lemieux had this in abundance? The list goes on. Oxygen uptake. Ratio of slow-twitch and fast-twitch muscle fibers. Bone density and joint strength. Steve Prefontaine, anyone? Sure, some of this can be enhanced through training, but only so far. Coaches in East Germany used to screen young children to find those that had a sophisticated way of moving. The children selected were then tapped for special training in the state gymnasia. Hello, Katarina Witt. Ever see a contestant on "Dancing with the Stars" try and try and try and just never look as good as the next competitor? As an enthusiastic practitioner and occasional teacher of swing dancing I see this all the time (especially in the mirror…). In the end, some people are just born with a bit more athletic ability than others.
But then I’ll ask one more question. Can the use of performance-enhancing drugs be stopped? It used to be that those "evil" Eastern European countries doped their weightlifters, swimmers, and track and field athelets. Then everyone else got into the act. Is there any major endurance or strength-related sport that can reasonably be thought free of such influence? Body-building? While plenty of people have axes to grind about the state of cycling, there is also some indication that performance enhancement is all but endemic to the sport. Is the Tour de France, as compelling a sporting event as exists anywhere, all but over as a meaningful event?
At this point the performance-enhancing cat is out of the bag. It will never be put back in. Ever. Oh, attempts will be made. But short of assigning a full-time shadow on every major athlete (who themselves are endlessly subject to corruption), the rewards are too great and the competitive desires are too strong. If a means of getting ahead is available, it will be used. If spitballers, spikers, and sign-stealers are in Cooperstown, how do you keep out those who pumped themselves full of this or that? If the average sports fan wants to protest from the sofa (or the average sportwriter from a typewriter), then I’ll ask just what makes them so pure? How many people cheat on their taxes? Shoot, how many cheat on their spouses? And for much smaller stakes.
Baseball has a government-granted exemption from anti-trust penalties. Like too many other private businesses, it has successfully held up city after city for publicly-funded ballparks. While trying to fight with its players (themselves no angels but certainly right to demand free agency), baseball ran its fan base and its reputation into the ground with continual strikes culminating in the loss of a World Series in 1994. I haven’t paid a dime for a ticket or piece of merchandise since, though I still watch and listen to it. Faced with a loss of credibility, goodwill, and ultimately business, it had two aces up its sleeve.
The first was Cal Ripken, Jr. and The Streak. Not only is Ripken deservedly respected for his work ethic and accomplishments, he is by all accounts also a "nice guy." Absent the streak I submit that he would simply be a beloved local hero like Willie Stargell, but not the major icon he has become. However it was a great story, baseball was right to sell it, and Mr. Ripken gets all the credit in the world.
The other ace was offense. And lots of it. Especially in the form of The Home Run. "Chicks dig the long ball!" In bunches. And nobody seemed to notice. In improbable bunches. And nobody seemed to notice. In numbers not seen since the 20s and 30s. And nobody seemed to notice. By pumped up men swatting at little-league fences. And nobody seemed to notice. There were McGwire and Sosa. And nobody seemed to notice. Roger Clemens experienced a late-career surge rather like Bonds’. And nobody seemed to notice.
But then came the perfect storm. A surly man challenging the Greatest Record in Sports. Who "cheated" by using steroids. Who wasn’t a happy-go-skippy, smiley-faced, love-and-fuzzy-bunnies-for-everyone-and-especially-including-small-children kind of guy. Nobody cares about the hundreds of other players who supposedly used steroids but Bo
nds’ case, for some reason, shall not stand!
So you don’t like Barry Bonds? Well guess what–I love the man. He went for it. He’s probably gonna get to keep it. Bonds made the choice of whether the risk of negative effects from steroids are worth the benefits, just as would a person jumping out of an airplane, even with a parachute. I don’t need to invite him to a children’s birthday party. I don’t need to have a beer with him. I just want to watch him play baseball. He does that more or less as well as anyone ever has.
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Robert P. Churchill can be reached via e-mail here