Relievers Are No Caged Birds and No Net Ensnares Them

Some birds make great pets. My great Uncle Bob and Aunt Marge had a green parrot named Stanley. (I’m using the past tense since Marge and Bob have passed on, but Stanley may very well still be alive, since Amazon parrots can live long enough to collect social security.) This particular parrot could make a noise that sounded just like the ringer on Bob and Marge’s landline telephone. He said “Bob” in the exact intonation that Marge used when calling across the house to her husband. And while Stanley could be a bit of a chatterbox, when they pulled the cover over his cage for the night, he quickly quieted down until morning. Stanley epitomized (epitomizes?) repetition, consistency, and longevity.
Relievers are not like Stanley. Relievers, particularly good ones, are rare and exotic birds, with comparatively short lifespans. They prove tough to even spot, much less capture and domesticate. Bird watchers go to all sorts of extreme measures to finally hear the song of a Bewick’s wren, or spot the scarlet tanager that eludes them despite living in its native land. Meanwhile GMs and Presidents of Baseball Operations (POBOs) employ all sorts of strategies to bring in quality relievers. But try as they might, the phantom late-inning aces ignore their calls.
Because of the inherent volatility of relief pitchers, decision-makers must build their bullpens using small tidbits of information gleaned from observation. In their dreams, POBOs compile collections of lights-out closers, but in the real world, the goal is to gather a flock of average or better performers who compile innings. Thus, moving forward, this article will define a productive or “good” reliever season as one where the pitcher throws at least 40 innings and posts an ERA- of 100 or lower. Read the rest of this entry »