Like many baseball nerds, I have been itching to get my sweaty hands on enough ABS challenge data to draw some really strong conclusions. Unfortunately, it’s early in the season and challenges happen so rarely that we don’t have much to go on just yet. But you know what they say about idle hands. I am impatient, and I have been devising devilish ways to dodge the damnable data deficit. I’d like to show you one of them. Today we’re bundling.

Here’s what I did. I went to Statcast’s framing leaderboard and I bundled catchers by their strengths and weaknesses at framing pitches in certain locations. Fortunately, catchers are easy to bundle, because they’re already predisposed toward scrunching themselves into tiny little balls. Finding catchers with similar tendencies allowed me to work in the aggregate, searching for patterns in a more robust dataset. I won’t bore you with my methodology, but it’s not much more advanced than scrolling the leaderboard looking for catchers whose framing runs number is red in one zone but blue in another zone. I ended up with four groups:

• Catchers who are significantly better framers at the top of the zone than the bottom of the zone.
• Catchers who are significantly better framers at the bottom of the zone than the top of the zone.
• Catchers who are significantly better framers on their glove side than their arm side.
• Catchers who are significantly better framers on their arm side than their glove side.

Each group had around 10 members, and there was some overlap. For example, Patrick Bailey is in the Top Framers and the Glove Side Framers. A few catchers were too good to be in any of the groups, like Brandon Valenzuela. A lot more catchers were too bad or average to be in any of them, like Tyler Stephenson. Feel free to skip this part, but just in case anybody’s curious, these are the four groups:

Once my catchers were nice and bundled, I calculated their success rate on challenges both in the location where they’re good at framing and the location where they’re bad. Then I compared those rates to the rates of the catchers who were their polar opposites. I also calculated the average location of the pitches they challenged, in order to get a sense of how different the pitches they challenged really were.

Before we get into the data, let’s think about some possible results and about how we might end up there. The first possibility is that the differences aren’t that big. Just because you’re better at framing in one spot doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll be better or worse at challenging there. This challenging stuff is so new that we’re not sure what’s what.

The second possibility is that catchers will be good at challenging in the spots where they’re good at framing. It’s certainly not inconceivable. Maybe you handle those pitches better because you see them better, or you’re better prepared for them, or you know that area of the zone well, so you have a better sense of where the edge is.

The last possibility is the opposite, that catchers will be better at challenging in spots where they’re worse at framing. I can think of a couple explanations for that. The first is that they’ll have juicier pitches to challenge. If you’re bad at framing, say, pitches at the top of the zone, you’re probably getting stuck with a lot of bad calls up there, which leaves you with better opportunities for challenges. We can also come at this from the other angle. Maybe when you’re good at framing in one spot, you feel like all pitches in that spot look really good, so you challenge too frequently. I found something similar when I looked at which parks have the best batter’s eyes. When hitters can see the ball well, their plate discipline doesn’t get better as you’d expect; they get more aggressive because more pitches look good to them.

So those are the possibilities. Let’s see what the data says. We’ll start with catchers who are better on one side of the plate. (Since all catchers throw right-handed, I’ll refer to the third base side of home plate, the inside corner to right-handed batters, as their glove side, and the first base side as their arm side.) The columns below show success rate, and they show the average horizontal location of the pitches challenged, measured in inches from the center of home plate.

Well, the third possibility looks like the right one. Catchers run success rates that are 10 percentage points higher on the side where they’re bad at framing. They’re challenging pitches that are either 0.3 or 0.4 inches closer to the center of the plate.

Now let’s move to the top and bottom of the zone. The columns show success rate on challenges and the average height of the pitches in feet.

Yup, it’s more of the same here. The catchers who are better at framing at one end of the zone are about 10 percentage points worse on challenges in that location. You might notice that the gaps are a bit bigger here, 12 percentage points and 0.7 inches at the top, but only nine percentage points and 0.2 inches at the bottom. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s because the top of the zone is more variable anyway. As I wrote a couple years ago, the knees of short and tall players are much closer in height than their shoulders.

As you can see, the overall success rates are just about identical, and once again, that holds true across the league. The league-wide success rates on challenges at the top and bottom of the zone are nearly identical, just a hair under 59%.

I know this is basic stuff and some of it is fairly intuitive, but I think it already gives us some actionable information. For example, you might also have noticed from the first table that success rates are generally higher on the glove side than the arm side. That actually holds across the entire league. So far this season, catchers are running success rates of 63% on the glove side and 59% on the arm side. Unless you’re a member of our special Glove Side Framers group, you should be more aggressive at challenging pitches to your glove side. That’s all I’ve got right now, but I’ll keep thinking of ways to slice the data.

In the summer of 1872, Martin Malone pitched three complete games in three days for the Brooklyn Eckfords of the National Association. In today’s game, a pitcher who threw three complete games in three days would be hailed as something of a miracle, but Malone’s accomplishment loses a bit of its luster when you consider the context of the era. According to the numbers in our database, starters went the distance 83% of the time that season. Another piece of context scrapes the rest of the shine off with a machete: Over his three games, Malone allowed 86 runs on 96 hits. You will not be shocked to learn that he went 0-3.

Nineteenth century record-keeping being what it is, those are Malone’s only three games in our database, and for several reasons, that’s not quite fair. First, those three games don’t represent anything like a complete picture of his total performance. Malone first suited up for the Eckfords five years earlier. “It is surprising that all of Malone’s vital statistics remain undiscovered,” wrote David Nemec in Major League Baseball Profiles, 1871-1900, “for he seems to have been an integral part of the Brooklyn baseball scene for more than a decade.”

Next, Malone’s pitching may not have turned out well, but he did go 5-for-16 with a walk, for a .313 batting average and 115 wRC+ at the plate. Last and most important, it’s hard to say how much credit Malone really deserves for all the runs he gave up. He only allowed one home run. He didn’t walk anybody and he didn’t strike anybody out. He did what so many pitchers have been implored to do over the course of baseball history: He let the offense put the ball in play and trusted the defense behind him. It was a catastrophic mistake. Read the rest of this entry »

Hello. While on paternity leave, I kept a journal about baseball and my daughter, who is not named Derek Jr., but who will henceforth be referred to as Derek Jr. You can read all of the entries here.

May 1
During the undocumented morass of the first two weeks of Derek Jr.’s life, my computer died. Allow me rephrase that: We murdered my computer. At some point one delirious night, I sat on the ottoman in our living room only to jump up in shock with sodden, clingy pants. The ottoman was sopping wet. We never figured out how it got that way. That’s a decent metaphor for the experience of having a brand new baby. A piece of furniture was totally soaked – I mean 100% saturated; it must have contained half a gallon of water – and we literally had no idea how it got that way. We still don’t. Later that night, my computer wouldn’t turn on, and I put two and two together. It must have been sitting on the ottoman at some point. It must be dead now. The Apple store confirmed it. The computer was dead. Cause of death: Drowning.

It was lucky that the computer died at a time when I didn’t have to work, but it was still a catastrophic situation. The technician at the store was not at all sanguine about my chances of recovering the contents of the computer, and one of the many things that I had neglected in the frenzy of getting ready for a baby was backing up my hard drive. I had just offloaded onto that hard drive roughly 90% of the pictures from my camera roll in order to make room for baby pictures. I’d be losing a million health insurance forms from the pregnancy and God knows how many other important documents. The one that hurt the most, though, is that I had dozens and dozens of songs in various stages of completion. I have been working on a bunch of records at once, and I have a ton of older, unreleased songs and projects sitting around and waiting for the right situation. It was painful to even think about the sheer tonnage of lyrics, chords, artwork, voice memos, demos, and fully-recorded songs trapped on my pickled computer.

It took three weeks and three different computer shops, but I found out yesterday that the data has been recovered! It’s saved! Are there any baseball songs among the masses that just found salvation? Why don’t you ask this demo that I recorded in 2016 and which I was probably saving for a compilation of outtakes:

I head in to Manhattan to pick up an external hard drive containing my recovered data. The technician at the store is watching the Yankees pregame show on his computer. We chat about the AL East as he waits for someone from the backroom to bring out the hard drive. The Yankees are looking unbeatable in a division that’s looking much worse than expected, and Ben Rice and Cam Schlittler look like they’re going to be pinstripe-clad stars for a long time. But the party’s almost over. The owner of the shop walks out of the backroom instead. He tries to keep it under wraps because there’s a customer present, but he’s clearly furious that his employee is watching sports on the job. I wish I could’ve done something to keep this guy from getting in trouble, but it all happened so fast.

Regardless, it’s a huge day. It’s officially May, so we’re finally allowed to go crazy over what’s been going on, and a lot has been going on. Yordan Alvarez leads all position players in WAR. Maybe this will be the year he finally puts together a healthy season and snags an MVP, but the Astros, already nine games below .500, could cost him that shot. Rookie shortstops Kevin McGonigle and JJ Wetherholt are second and third. Rice and Elly De La Cruz, two young players who are hugely exciting for hugely different reasons, are fourth and fifth. Perhaps most improbable of all, Mike Trout is looking like Mike Trout again in sixth place.

To celebrate the miracle of the hard drive, here’s one more song that got saved. It’s from a new children’s album that I was really, really hoping to have finished before Derek Jr. arrived. I didn’t quite make it, and God knows when I’ll get to finish it now that she’s here. It’s really frustrating. I think this batch of songs contains some of the most fun stuff I’ve ever written, and it’s going to sit around for months at the very least, just waiting either for me to finally record the last few songs or for another computer disaster. Anyway, this is the one my wife likes best:

May 2
I should start by explaining that I am already close to broken before Derek Jr. wakes. I haven’t gotten much sleep recently. It has been a rough day. And night. She hasn’t slept as much as she needs to. At one point, I change her diaper five times in one hour. She’s ravenously hungry, so hungry that at one point we give in and feed her more than her stomach can handle. It’s a rookie mistake and it goes exactly how you’d expect. She finally goes to sleep, only to wake up a short time later because she’s spit up in her crib.

She goes down again, but awakes at 11:30 PM screaming for food. I change her diaper and haul her writhing body to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle from the fridge. The only game still going is the Mets and the Angels in Anaheim. We catch the top of the seventh as she eats (with interruptions for two more diaper changes, naturally). The Angels are up 3-1 thanks to a dominant performance from Reid Detmers, and Kurt Suzuki handles the situation like the old-school catcher he is. He rides the hot hand and leaves his ace out there for the seventh. (I guess Reid Detmers is an ace now. Maybe?) It’s a rookie mistake and it goes exactly how you’d expect. Double, single, sac fly. Another single and the game is tied. Two more singles and the bases are loaded. Suzuki finally decides that maybe Detmers isn’t his ace after all.

That’s all I remember, but Sam Bachman apparently wriggled out of the jam with a groundout and a strikeout, and the Angels eventually walked it off in the 10th on a single from Oswald Peraza. Presumably, Derek Jr. and I got some sleep somewhere in there too.

As is so often the case, I don’t have pictures of the hard times in the dead of night when my only companions are Derek Jr. and the pressing awareness of all the sleep that’s slowly slipping away. It’s too dark for pictures, and besides, no matter what camera settings I use, the pressing awareness of disappearing sleep doesn’t show up in photos. What I do have is pictures from the daytime, when everything is light and breezy:

Hello. While on paternity leave, I kept a journal about baseball and my daughter, who is not named Derek Jr., but who will henceforth be referred to as Derek Jr. You can read all of the entries here.

April 25
Sometimes my daughter will be sleeping peacefully in my arms looking for all the world like God’s one perfect creation, and then she’ll crack her eyelids open for a moment, and during that moment, through the tiny crack, I can just barely make out her eyeballs rolling all the way back in her head like she’s possessed by a demon. It’s so disturbing. I swear it’s like I’m watching her soul being ripped from her body. When I mention this to my wife, she tells me that she finds the eye thing adorable.

Kyle Backhus closed out an 8-5, extra-inning win for the Phillies today. He didn’t get the save, though, because the score was 8-4 when he entered the game. Backhus is an extremely fun player and not just because of the name. He’s fun to watch. He’s a classic lefty sidearmer and he accentuates that by setting up angled toward first base, presumably to add some crossfire deception to his delivery. As you’d expect from a sidearmer, he’s a sinker-slider guy with an east-west movement profile and the occasional changeup. That sweeping slider looks great on TV, but unfortunately, it just doesn’t sweep eastward as much as you’d expect it to. It needs to end up in Philly, but it only makes it as far as Pittsburgh, a deficiency that’s likely the reason his ERA starts with a four instead of a three.

More importantly, Baseball Reference doesn’t list a single nickname for Backhus, which seems borderline impossible because, you see, his name is Kyle Backhus. Somebody whose brain is functioning at something approaching full capacity, please get on this. Kyle Backhus deserves a cool nickname.

April 26
Lest yesterday’s entry impart the mistaken impression that I’m unwilling or unable to generate a sobriquet, behold a list of nicknames by which I have addressed my daughter while changing her diaper:

• Big Dumper
• Little Dumper
• My Sweet Lady
• Mini Pooper
• Winnie Pooper
• Farty McCry
• Milky Cabrera
• Kody Funderburk
• Kody Thunderburp
• Why are you smiling like that
• Oh God please don’t not now
• No no no no
• Jesus it’s everywhere
• Well I guess it’s bathtime
• Dr. Pooper
• C. Trent Goes-in-Pants

April 27
Transcript of my wife changing Derek Jr.’s diaper:

“I can’t believe I have to do this.”

“Oh my God.”

“It’s not that bad… but it’s not that good.”

“The relief she feels.”

“My God, her legs are so fat.”

“Derek Jr., I’m so proud of you.”

“It wasn’t that big. It was just very… everywhere.”

“She’s thrilled right now. I’ve never seen her happier.”

April 29
It’s 3:30 PM and I just put Derek Jr. down for a nap and turned on the Twins-Mariners game. Royce Lewis is up for the Twins in the bottom of the seventh, and Byron Buxton has edged so far away from the on-deck circle to get a better look at pitcher Eduard Bazardo that he’s very nearly directly behind home plate. No one seems to notice, but he’s apparently been doing this all game long. During the fourth inning, Buxton was practicing his snow shoveling back there.

I guess that’s what happens when you spend your whole career in Minnesota. It doesn’t help Buxton all that much. He grounds into a fielder’s choice and the Mariners pull Bazardo.

We just got back from the one month pediatrician visit. It was smooth sailing, and the percentile charts confirm what we’d been feeling: Derek Jr. is growing like crazy. “The only thing I want to ask,” says the pediatrician, “is whether she’s starting making eye contact with you.” The question catches me off guard. It’s true. Just in the last couple days, she’d started looking me right in the eye while I fed her. I’d registered it, but I’m so focused on just surviving right that I hadn’t stopped to think about the fact that this was an entirely new development. Our baby now looks right into our eyes. It’s nuts that I didn’t think about this before the doctor asked. I am literally writing a journal about all of the things I notice about this baby! Turns out she’s right on schedule. She gets a clean bill of health, and we’re informed that she’s now allowed to sleep uninterrupted for up to seven hours if she can manage it. What a world that would be.

April 30
April is almost over and things are getting real. In the baseball world that means consequences for managers. Alex Cora and Rob Thomson just lost their jobs after ugly starts. Carlos Mendoza must be waking up in a cold sweat a couple times a night. Things are getting real in our house, too, and that means a few things. First, it means that we’re getting to understand Derek Jr. better. We’re better at knowing how and how much to feed her, which turns into better sleep and a happier baby. It seems like so much of my job right now is picking up on cues, reading her face and her sounds and her body language. We’re figuring out what bothers her — bright lights, how hard the changing pad is against the back of her head, laying supine too soon after eating, it’s a long list — and what soothes her.

Things are also getting real in the sense that Derek Jr. is growing. Rapidly. All of a sudden, her newborn clothes no longer fit. And when I say all of a sudden, I mean that it literally happened two days ago. Three days ago they fit; yesterday they didn’t. She’s now onto the next size up. The past two mornings, we went through her clothes, holding up onesie after onesie — some of which she wore only a few days ago! — and laughing at how absurd it would be to try to squeeze her into them now. Some clothes she never even had time to wear once. Sadly, we have no unworn baby shoes to give away, because — and if you should run into Ernest Hemingway, please tell him this — babies aren’t supposed to wear shoes, buddy. Shoes can hinder the development of their feet. Your six-word story is structurally flawed, Mr. Nobel Laureate. On the bright side, it does mean that Derek Jr. is now big enough to wear this killer onesie that David Appelman sent.

Derek Jr. is already so different from the baby we met at the hospital, and she will never be that baby again. When she was first born, she was such a monkey. She hooted and clung to my wife with her long, spindly limbs. Now she’s a little bowling ball, and I’m sure she’ll be something else soon enough. In the afternoon, I settle her down for a nap. We’re old pros at this now. It goes like clockwork, except the larger onesie we put on her isn’t very flexible, so it makes her upset when it goes over her head. We probably won’t use this one again. Another lesson learned: Stretchy clothes make everybody’s life easier.

I turn on the Twins-Mariners game, but I struggle to get into it. Two years ago, an absurd series of events led me to fall in love with the Twins. I wrote an article about Edouard Julian and recorded a song to go with it. The song found its way into the locker room, and so did I. I met players and coaches, played the song while sitting next to Julien, got a sincerely moving embrace from Twins fans, and learned about the unbelievably fantastic Minnesota State Fair. (Seriously, everybody out there, you have to go to the Minnesota State Fair. It’s the best.) It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and I knew that it would make me a Twins fan for life. But after last summer’s fire sale, nearly everybody I interacted with, from the GM to the coaches to the players, has moved elsewhere. I still love the Twins, but it’s different. They’re no longer the team I fell in love with, and it happened so fast.

While we’re likening the Twins to my daughter, I should mention that actually I lobbied to name her the opposite of Twins. I was mostly joking, but I wanted to name her Singleton, which is a word I learned from the form we had to fill out before each sonogram. You had to check the box next to either Singleton, Twins, or Triplets. It’s such a delightful word. I love the way it scans. Every time we went to the imaging place, I’d make my pitch for Singleton, and every time, my wife would confirm that her preference for a normal, human name still held sway. Then I’d use the coffee machine in the waiting room to make a decaf coffee, which is the thing I miss most about working in an office by far. I don’t need the coffee, even. I just like to hear the machine kachunk its way through the process. Without fail, the sonogram technician would call my wife’s name the moment I pressed brew, so I’d end up scurrying down the hall trying to catch up with them without moving so fast that I sloshed hot almost coffee down my wrist.

Then we’d get a peek at Derek Jr., tensing every muscle in our bodies at the beginning, then unclenching in stairstep fashion as the technician informed us, one anatomical feature at a time, that everything looked fine. It was worth the apprehension, of course, because we got to see the baby. My wife called the sonograms FaceTiming the baby. They print out pictures for you, too, and not just one like you see in the movies, but lots of pictures at every sonogram. Whole body pictures, pictures of her adorable little feet, and even ghoulish pictures of the beginnings of her face. Our refrigerator is still covered in them. God, we loved that blurry baby-esque phantasm. At some point, we’ll have to move those printouts over to a memory box and start covering the fridge in pictures where she doesn’t look like a poltergeist. But not yet.

Daulton Varsho is a tinkerer. In each of his seasons with the Blue Jays, either SportsNet’s Arden Zwelling, SportsNet’s Shi Davidi, or both have written an article detailing a swing change – except in 2024, when Zwelling noted that for once, Varsho was going to finally try (gasp!) not tinkering with his swing.

Despite all the adjustments, Varsho remained the same kind of hitter. He had a super steep swing that was seemingly tailor made for today’s lift-and-pull focused game. He whiffed a lot and didn’t hit the ball particularly hard, but when he did square it up, he ripped it into the right field bleachers. That’s a recipe for a lot of variance – the lows involve scads of strikeouts and the highs involve heaps of homers – so it wasn’t surprising that his first three seasons with the Blue Jays saw one average season at the plate, one below-average season, and one above-average season. Although injuries limited him to just 71 games in 2025, Varsho put up a career-best 123 wRC+ and slugged 20 homers. Over a full season, that’s a 46-homer pace! If ever there was a time to stand pat, this was it, right? Right!? Read the rest of this entry »

Last week, Jake Mailhot wrote about the complete overhaul that has turned Keibert Ruiz from one of the worst players in baseball to, as of now, the 12th-best catcher in the game according to WAR. I’m particularly jazzed about this success story because I wrote about Ruiz’s chance to do something like this last year. It’s not often you come across a six-year veteran with a wRC+ of 65 and see real potential for improvement, but Ruiz was demonstrating some gifts that sure seemed like they could start bringing some value.

In an article about players who pull the ball significantly more often specifically when they square it up, I noted that Ruiz ran some of the highest pull and contact rates in the game, up with José Ramírez, Alex Bregman, and Isaac Paredes. He didn’t fit in with that group, though, because he mainly used those great contact skills to pull weak grounders. I figured that he was caught in between. He might be able to find success following the path of Luis Arraez and Steven Kwan, using his contact skills to wait back and shoot line drives the other way, or he could follow the lifter-pullers and start trying to do some actual damage with all that pull-side contact. The Nationals chose the latter path, increasing his bat speed and encouraging him to do damage, and it sure seems like it’s working so far.

Jake’s article went hand in glove with a deep dive from The Athletic’s Spencer Nusbaum that described the all-hands-on-deck nature of the turnaround: “This season, the Nationals have started to implement ‘player plan’ meetings, an individual gathering with every member of the roster every six weeks. First, they tell players how they’re being evaluated by the organization. Then, they talk through a plan to tweak their routines accordingly.”

Between executives, coaches, and trainers, Nusbaum reported, these individual player meetings have nearly 20 people in them. His article also mentioned the specific areas of improvement the Nationals identified for Jacob Young, Curtis Mead, José Tena, and Luis García Jr. Today, we’re going to talk about Nasim Nuñez, who went unmentioned in the article and is one of the few Nationals hitters who isn’t having a career year.

Nuñez is a 25-year-old switch-hitting middle infielder. This is his third major league season, and it will be his first full one. To some degree, things are going as expected for him. In 2024, Eric Longenhagen and Travis Ice wrote that Nuñez possessed “virtually no power,” but predicted a “John McDonald-esque career” based on “his incredible hands, range, athleticism, and infield versatility.” Last year, Ben Clemens echoed that sentiment, calling Nuñez “the platonic ideal of the light-hitting utility infielder.” This season, Nuñez is getting everyday reps at second base with occasional days at shortstop. He possesses blistering speed, and that part of his game is going great. He leads the majors with 22 stolen bases and his 3.4 baserunning runs rank fifth. He’s also running a tidy 11% walk rate thanks to good plate discipline and a league-average contact rate. Lastly, his defense isn’t lighting up the advanced metrics just yet, but it is grading out as solidly above average.

That’s it. Those are the things that are going right for Nuñez, and if he were posting something approaching the 93 wRC+ he put up across the 90 games of his career entering this year, they would be enough to make him an above-average second baseman. Great baserunning and middle infield defense along with a good walk rate really should really be enough. Unfortunately, the rest of Nuñez’s offensive profile is dragging him way, way down. He is batting .193 with a 50 wRC+, second worst among all qualified hitters. I made a list of 12 categories where Nuñez ranks in the bottom octile of all qualified players, and another list of 10 categories where he ranks dead last, but I think just telling you about the two lists is enough to get the point across. He has looked like the worst hitter in baseball, and as a result, he’s been sub-replacement level so far this season.

As you’d expect for anybody hitting this badly over a relatively short sample, Nuñez has been the victim of some bad luck. His .270 xwOBA, execrable though it is, is still 30 points above his actual wOBA. Likewise, his DRC+ of 84, while dreadful, at least pushes him up out of the bottom 30 among qualified hitters. Still, a lack of power is the main thing dragging Nuñez down, and it’s hard to argue that he’s getting jobbed in that department. He is at or near the bottom of the league in every exit velocity metric. He has not yet homered. He has not yet notched a barrel. He’s last among all qualified hitters in both doubles and triples. In fact, I put all of his extra-base hits in the GIF below. Anytime you can put a player’s entire highlight reel for two months of a season into a single GIF, that’s definitely a bad sign.

That’s right. Nuñez has two doubles and both of them were hustle doubles. The one and only time this season he has hit the ball past the defense, it was on a fly ball with a 60% catch probability. Luckily Nuñez hit it toward Matt Wallner, whose -9 defensive runs saved rank last among right fielders. A decent right fielder catches that ball, and most non-Wallner right fielders avoid misplaying it into a triple.

Nuñez’s slugging percentage is 50 points below his expected slugging level, but that’s almost entirely because of singles not falling in. He’s hit just four balls this season with an expected slugging percentage above 1.000. One was the first double in the GIF above, where he lined the ball toward (but not all the way into) the right field corner against the Brewers. Three were little bloopers that always go for singles and occasionally get stretched into doubles. This is the ball with the highest expected slugging percentage he’s hit all year.

It’s also the hardest-hit ball he has hit all year, but it is the most routine single in the world. You’d expect a speedster like Nuñez to be getting lots of hustle doubles, so is it possible that he’s just been unlucky on that front, getting thrown out trying to stretch singles into doubles? That ain’t it either. He’s only been cut down once trying to advance to second on a single, and amazingly, it was on a freak bunt play where the Brewers tried their best to throw the ball away but were foiled by the wayward torso of the umpire:

So why am I spending so much time showing you that a player we all expected to be light on power is, in fact, light on power? First, because things are so extreme that Nuñez is in danger of making some dubious history. He has an isolated slugging percentage of .023. You won’t be shocked to learn that it’s the lowest mark among all qualified players, but you might be surprised to learn that the next-lowest ISO is more than double Nuñez’s mark. (You might also be surprised to learn that it belongs to Fernando Tatis Jr. What a world.)

Nuñez isn’t just failing to slug, but he’s also been historically bad at it. Among qualified AL/NL position players since 1901, Nasim this year is currently tied for the ninth-lowest single-season ISO, and he has the third-lowest single-season slugging percentage. Of course, the game is very different now, and the names around Nuñez at the bottom of these leaderboards are nearly all from the turn of the last century. (You can tell because the first names include Spike, Spook, Patsy, Rollie, and, of course, Goat.) If we look at plus stats in order to compare Nuñez to the league average for historical context he drops even lower. His 15 ISO+ and 55 SLG+ are the very lowest. In AL/NL history. Since 1901.

Now, it’s not quite fair to compare Nuñez to full-season marks. We’re catching him over a shorter, noisier sample. It’s a long season, and he’s sure to pick up the pace some. He’ll hit better and he’ll get luckier, if for no other reason than that he couldn’t get much worse. But even if we just look at partial seasons from this century, Stathead tells us that only 14 players have ever run a slugging percentage this low over a span of 50 games and at least 190 plate appearances.

My goal in writing this article was not to drag a player who’s having a rough season and who only has 244 career plate appearances under his belt. I really like Nuñez’s game. His true talent level isn’t this low, and even if it were, he could still be a useful player. He’s always been better-suited for a utility role, and on a better team, that’s what he’d be. He’d get to rack up value as a pinch-runner, show off his glove, minimize the percentage of his overall value that came at the plate, and specifically minimize his time facing right-handed pitching. The Nationals are, very understandably, playing Nuñez in front of Jorbit Vivas and José Tena, whose bats aren’t much better and who don’t possess Nuñez’s glove or speed. But I still think Nuñez could be better.

As I hinted at in the previous paragraph, he has some serious splits. Over his short career, he’s got a 42 wRC+ hitting left-handed and a 120 mark batting righty. This season, those marks are 23 and 110. Even in this dreadful, dreadful season, Nuñez has been a legitimately good hitter from the right side. His bat speed is two ticks higher from the right side, his exit velocity is more than three ticks higher, and his strikeout rate is a full seven points lower. It’s very tempting to look at his profile and wonder whether he’s just miscast as a switch-hitter, but I don’t want to go that far. For one, I don’t know him nearly as well as the Nationals do, and they’ve had three years to consider that option. For another, according to Statcast, he actually put up a higher wOBA as a lefty in the minors (at least when the fancy cameras were watching). What I will say is that Nuñez needs to figure out how to unlock his left-handed swing.

I have no idea what the Nationals told Nuñez to work on during his player plan meeting. It’s hard for me to imagine they gave him the same Do Damage advice they gave to Ruiz, Young, and García. Nuñez is 5-foot-8 and he’s never given the faintest sign that he possesses the ability to hit for power. Then again, his average bat speed even in this powerless year is higher than Ruiz’s was last year, and he outhomered Ruiz last year despite playing in 19 fewer games. Maybe swinging hard is good advice for everybody.

Hello. While on paternity leave, I kept a journal about baseball and my daughter, who is not named Derek Jr., but who will henceforth be referred to as Derek Jr. This is the third installment of that series. You can read all of the entries here.

April 19
So we have this app on our phones where we track baby things. At our first doctor’s visit, the only things the pediatrician specifically told us to do were to feed Derek Jr. every three hours and to keep an eye on how many times a day she was peeing. That’s enough to make sure she’s not hungry or dehydrated. But several people recommended this app, and now we’re neck deep in it.

We track when Derek Jr. pees. We track when she poops. We track when she boths. We track when and what and how much and how long we feed her. A few days ago, we started tracking her sleep too. You wouldn’t believe what other information the app wants; it has a color palette to choose from for each time your baby goes to the bathroom. I am not sure I like all this. (To be clear, I am very sure that I don’t like the part where the app wants to know what color the baby’s poop is. That’s between her and her god, the Diaper Genie.) We’re new parents. All we do is think about the baby and, specifically, worry about the baby. Now we can feed our anxiety with something that presents itself as hard data. The app has totals and averages and graphs and charts. It all looks very certain and official. It could very reasonably be called inFantGraphs. Read the rest of this entry »

Hello. While on paternity leave, I kept a journal about baseball and my daughter, who is not named Derek Jr., but who will henceforth be referred to as Derek Jr. This is the second installment of that series. You can read all of the entries here.

April 17

Like any new parents, my wife and I spend a lot of time staring at our baby and talking about how beautiful she is. Of course we do. Evolution has programmed us to be completely overwhelmed by the baby’s beauty so that we don’t leave her on the doorstep of the nearest convent when we get fed up with the wailing and the sleepless nights and the relentless, unceasing, never-ending pooping. It has worked. We are ensorcelled. Derek Jr.’s future is wimple-free. But I’m starting to think it has hit my wife harder.

I say this because she has started to insist that Derek Jr. is “an objectively beautiful baby.” Objectively beautiful. You’re familiar with beauty, right? The thing that is, famously, in the eye of the beholder? Apparently one beholder knows better. It’s not enough that she thinks the baby is beautiful, and that everyone tells her all day long how beautiful the baby is. She now needs it to be proven empirically.

I used the word “insist” earlier because I have been pushing back ever so slightly on this one. I spend a whole lot of time analyzing players or trends, and it requires rooting out biases and confounding variables. Call me crazy, but I’m picking up on a possible conflict of interest here. I’m not prepared to get in a fight over this, but I have gently pointed out that the fact that my wife is throwing around the word “objectively” here is — objectively — hilarious. Read the rest of this entry »

After posting an excellent 125 wRC+ over his first two seasons, James Wood is establishing himself as one of the best hitters in baseball this year. The 23-year-old National is running a 169 wRC+, third best among qualified batters, and he’s on pace for 43 homers, 26 stolen bases, and 7.2 WAR. Everybody knows the parameters of Wood’s game by now. He’s 6-foot-6, extremely choosy at the plate, and so spectacularly powerful that his proclivity for whiffs and groundballs barely holds him back. This year, he’s improved on both fronts, dropping nearly 10 percentage points from his groundball rate and adding nearly four points to his contact rate on pitches in the strike zone. It’s huge news – James Wood-huge even – and if he can hold on to even some of those gains, he’s going to live at the top of the leaderboards for a long, long time. Today, however, we’re going to talk about a leaderboard where Wood ranks dead last.

If you head over to Baseball Savant’s new ABS challenge leaderboard, you’ll find Wood all the way at the bottom. A big caveat before we get going: The challenge system is very new, and because each player challenges so few times, the sample sizes are very small. Moreover, everyone involved is still adjusting to the system, so the trends we’re seeing now are likely to change. In this article, I’m going to be overreacting to these early numbers. It’s way too soon for big proclamations. However, I don’t think it’s too soon to look for patterns and draw some early conclusions about players who stand out as starkly as Wood does. End of caveat.

Now let’s go to the leaderboard and sort by either Net Overturns or Net Runs. There’s Wood, dead last. According to Statcast’s reckoning, an average batter who saw the same pitches Wood has seen would have made 4.8 more successful challenges and netted their team 1.4 more runs. No player has been worse, and even if you ignore the advanced numbers for a moment, Wood’s record tells you all you need to know. He’s made 13 challenges. He’s won three of them and lost 10. For those of you keeping score at home, that stinks. The average batter has won 47% of their challenges, twice as many as Wood. Read the rest of this entry »

On Monday night, the Astros celebrated Memorial Day by no-hitting the Rangers. Throwing to catcher Christian Vázquez, pitchers Tatsuya Imai, Steven Okert, and Alimber Santa combined for the 18th no-hitter in a franchise history that dates back to 1962. According to the great Sarah Langs, not only is that the most no-hitters over that period, but the second-place Dodgers are a full five no-nos behind with 13. Imai was making just his sixth major league start. Santa was making his major league debut. There must be something in the water in Houston.

I didn’t catch any of the game live. I saw a supercut that shows all 27 outs the Astros got. This is it. You don’t have to watch it to enjoy this article, and it’s seven minutes long, but I at least wanted to give you the chance to experience the game the way I experienced it.

Several things jumped out at me at the beginning of the video. It starts with an establishing shot of Imai. He’s toeing the rubber before he throws his first pitch, and his stats are overlaid on the screen. They are yucky. He’s 1-2 with an 8.31 ERA, a 1.79 WHIP, a 3:2 walk-to-strikeout ratio, and a 4.64 xFIP. With the Seibu Lions in NPB, Imai ran an ERA below 2.50 in each of the last four seasons. He was unhittable. But his first five-start stretch stateside was abysmal. He hit the IL with arm fatigue after three outings, got lit up in his first Triple-A rehab start, then got lit up again in his first start back with the big club. In the start after that one, on May 18, Imai put up a game score of 41. Somehow, it was his second-best mark of the season. He previously threw a curveball, splitter, and regular changeup, but he seems to have abandoned them entirely. “Command,” wrote The Athletic’s Chandler Rome, “has been somewhere between spotty and nonexistent.” All of this is to say that, to this point in his short MLB career, Imai has not looked like a guy with no-hit stuff. Read the rest of this entry »