Earlier this week, I published my findings about the relationship between when free agents sign and the size of their contracts. As a quick refresher, in recent years, the last 20% or so of free agents to sign have been settling for contracts meaningfully lower than pre-offseason expectations. But that finding raises more questions, some of which I hope to answer today.

First, there’s an obvious question: Did the free agents who got those late, discounted deals perform worse than expected during the following season? In other words, did their low-dollar-value deals foreshadow lower-than-projected production? To examine this, I took the upcoming season’s projections for the players ranked on my Top 50 Free Agents list in each of the past three years, 150 players in all, to come up with a projected WAR for each segment of players. I then compared it to how they actually did in the ensuing year. There is indeed a drop-off for those who signed late:

First things first: Every group underperformed its projections. That comes down to playing time. Our projections use Depth Charts playing time, which approximates the most likely distribution of playing time across a given roster without accounting for the likelihood of injuries. Just as an example, non-catcher batters were projected for an average of more than 600 plate appearances in this dataset, and they came in closer to the mid-500s in practice. So don’t pay too much attention to the absolute numbers; the relative differences are what to look at here.

The last 10 free agents to sign saw huge shortfalls in production relative to expectations. One reason: They played less. The average hitter in this group of 150 free agents batted 70 times less than projected. Hitters signed among the last 10 free agents in their class batted 100 times less than projected. Likewise, the average pitcher in the group came up 25 innings shy of projections, but pitchers among the last 10 players signed came up 40 innings short.
Read the rest of this entry »

For the 21st consecutive season, the ZiPS projection system is unleashing a full set of prognostications. For more information on the ZiPS projections, please consult this year’s introduction and MLB’s glossary entry. The team order is selected by lot, and the next team up is the Houston Astros.

Batters

The 2024 season started terribly for the Astros, with a 12-24 record in the early going and most of their projected rotation on the IL. The hole the team dug was deep enough that even with them playing solid ball after early May, the Astros didn’t get above .500 for good until the end of June. Still, nobody in the AL West managed to take advantage of Houston’s weak start. The Astros built a comfortable lead throughout August, and though the Mariners never fell hopelessly behind in the race, they never made Houston really sweat either. Read the rest of this entry »

The other day, I was poking around on the Minnesota Twins’ RosterResource page. Mostly because the Twins have been quiet this offseason, I wanted to make sure they were still there and that I hadn’t missed another round of contraction rumors.

It’s fine, guys, I checked and the Twins are not going out of business anytime soon.

The other thing I noticed is that Minnesota had only two hitters who qualified for the batting title last season, which is not a lot. The Rangers and Brewers (which I would not have guessed) had seven each. And with Carlos Santana bound for his fifth go-around with Cleveland (it’s only his third but I know you were about to look), Willi Castro stands alone in Minnesota. The Marlins and Rays are the only other teams that are set to return only a single qualified hitter from 2024. Read the rest of this entry »

On August 18 in Colorado, Ha-Seong Kim led off first base, then dived back to beat a pickoff attempt. He tore the labrum in his right shoulder, and that was the last time we saw him play in 2024. After a failed rehab attempt, Kim underwent surgery in October, and he won’t be ready to play again until sometime between April and June. Just as uncertain: Where exactly Kim will be suiting up when he returns. There’s no doubt about his skill. Over the past four years, Kim has spent time at second, short, and third, and neither DRS nor FRV has ever rated him as below average at any of those spots. He needed a year to adjust on offense after arriving from the KBO in 2021, but over the past three seasons, he’s run a 106 wRC+. That ranks 13th among shortstops, and over the same period, his 10.5 WAR ranks 11th.

Kim entered free agency after both he and the Padres declined their ends of a mutual option, and he came in at ninth on our Top 50 Free Agents. According to the projections, he’ll command a four- or five-year deal with an AAV in the neighborhood of $19 million. However, the shoulder injury could cost him as much as half of the 2025 season, and it makes for a tough needle to thread. He’s got to sign with a team that needs a solid infielder, but not badly enough to need one right away. Moreover, a shoulder injury is especially scary for Kim, whose arm strength is an important part of his overall value and who already possesses below-average power at the plate. For that reason, it wouldn’t be surprising to see Kim get a pillow contract: Ben Clemens proposed two years with an opt-out. Back in November, Mark Feinsand reported that Kim had generated “lots of interest,” and wrote about the possibility that he’d be among the first free agents off the board. However, it’s now late January, and if you cruise through our Depth Charts, you’ll notice that there just don’t seem to be many good landing spots for Kim. Let us begin our litanies. Read the rest of this entry »

“It’s better not to know so much about what things mean.”
– David Lynch in Rolling Stone, September 1990

A few friends and I have a recurring movie night where we take turns choosing the featured film for the evening. Because one friend has decided to make his picks in the “campy horror” genre, last week we wound up watching Peter Jackson’s Dead Alive (yes, THAT Peter Jackson). Rotten Tomatoes describes it as a “delightfully gonzo tale of a lovestruck teen and his zombified mother,” while Wikipedia goes with “zombie comedy splatter film.” It deals in absurdity and surrealism and its favorite tool of the trade is fake blood. The production reportedly went through about 80 gallons of the stuff.

Absurdist storytelling launders its messaging through exaggerated extremes and by defying or subverting logic in ways frequently so morbid or dark that they surpass tragedy and come all the way back around to comedy. Extremes that defy logic exist in baseball too. A particularly rich source being players’ home/road splits. I went searching the 2024 season for the most extreme differences in player performance (minimum 200 plate appearances) between their home parks and road venues across a variety of offensive metrics. In my own act of defying reason, I don’t really have an explanation for choosing hitters over pitchers. Maybe I’ll do pitchers in the future. Maybe I won’t. Who needs symmetry or balance in the universe? Anyway, I found the largest disparities, and ignored the boring, expected ones like Rockies hitters clubbing a bunch more homers at Coors Field, and instead, locked in on the truly bizarre.

Certain occurrences earn their bizarre status not because of their unexpected nature, but rather because they take an expected outcome to such an extreme as to feel over the top, or a bit “on the nose,” as an editor might put it. Dead Alive depicts Lionel, a young adult man, still living at home with his mother, an overbearing type who domineers his life. Lionel and his mother portray the standard “momma’s boy” archetype, but exaggerated to nth degree — the film culminates with the supercharged zombie version of Lionel’s mother inserting her son back into her womb, where she can finally regain complete control over his life.

Like an overbearing mother, certain ballparks have a strong influence on the type of hitter who thrives under their care. Some encourage power, or prefer a certain handedness, while others look down on hitting and choose instead to emphasize pitching and defense. Petco Park in San Diego does not favor offense in general, but it is among the least friendly ballparks for lefties who hit a bunch of singles. Enter Luis Arraez, the singles hitter of all singles hitters.

The infielder/DH was traded to the Padres from the Marlins last May 4. Like Lionel, who in the early scenes of Dead Alive meets a nice young woman named Paquita and takes her on a date to the zoo, Arraez continued to do his thing for the month of May, hitting 38 singles, compared to the 30 he hit during the first month of the season. But then Lionel’s mother interrupts the date, gets bit by a Sumatran Rat Monkey, and chaos ensues, just as the influence of Petco Park eventually exerts its will on Arraez. He ended the season with a .268 average at home and a .359 average on the road, due in part to his hitting about 20% fewer singles (71 vs. 90) and almost 50% fewer doubles (11 vs. 21) at home compared to on the road. This placed him at the extreme end of Petco Park’s offense dampening effects, so extreme as to feel like the stadium stuffed Arraez inside her womb until he learned his lesson about hitting all those singles.

Batting average is one thing, but there are other stats that you wouldn’t necessarily expect to have extreme home/road splits; similarly, you wouldn’t necessarily expect a scene at the beginning of a movie that depicts the main character mowing the lawn at the behest of his mother to foreshadow a momentum shift in the big fight scene at the end. Nevertheless, Brice Turang’s stolen base success rate was 15 points higher at home than on the road, which was the largest differential among base stealers with at least 30 attempts (omitting Jazz Chisholm Jr. who was around 20 percentage points better on the road, but also switched home stadiums in late July). The Brewers second baseman stole 28 bases at American Family Field and was caught just one time there, while in away parks he stole 22 bases and was caught five times. The discrepancy becomes all the more notable when considering Turang reached base less frequently at home, posting a .290 OBP in Milwaukee compared to a .341 OBP everywhere else.

There aren’t too many data points to suggest why Turang was better at swiping bags at home, but as a player with just over 1,000 big league plate appearances, it makes sense that some of his visual timing and positioning cues might be more locked in at AmFam than they are elsewhere in the league. Things like the first base cutout in the infield grass and the sightlines behind the pitcher as he’s taking his lead from first are likely more dialed in at the place where Turang has taken the majority of his reps in the majors. Using one of his strongest tools (94th percentile sprint speed) and the comforts of a familiar environment, Turang almost completely compensated for his otherwise negative contributions on offense, just as Lionel, in defending his home from a horde of zombie partygoers, turned to a trusted tool — his lawnmower and its sharp, speedy blade — to mow through the walking dead.

The largest split I could find with respect to wRC+, which is already adjusted for park factors, belongs to Luis García Jr., who after several up and down seasons with the Nationals, spent 2024 as Washington’s primary second baseman. The lefty logged a 156 wRC+ at home and a 63 wRC+ on the road, a 93-point spread. This is where it’s helpful to know exactly how the park adjustment is applied to wRC+ and why that might make a fairly neutral hitting environment like Nationals Park seem like an oasis for one hitter in particular. Or, in other words, why a young lady like Paquita might continue to see someone even after his zombie mother ate her dog.

(Here is where I must note that there is a character in Dead Alive named Scroat. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make a baseball analogy to Scroat because I do not remember which character was Scroat, and an IMDb search through the movie’s cast list does not have a headshot next to the actor who played Scroat. Really, I just wanted a chance to write Scroat in a FanGraphs post, so here we are. Scroat!)

Anyway, the park factor applied to wRC+ is a single value that captures the run environment in the stadium overall, as opposed to the more granular component level park factors that consider the stadium’s influence on the individual components of offense, such as singles, doubles, triples, home runs, etc. Component park factors that take into consideration the batter’s handedness are also available. Digging into the components of García’s home/road splits reveals that when in D.C., he struck out less and hit more singles and homers. Component park factors explain part of why García might benefit more from hitting in Washington than an average hitter: Nats Park does suppress strikeouts relative to its peers, and left-handed hitters get a boost with respect to singles. Fewer strikeouts means more balls in play at a ballpark where a ball in play off the bat of a lefty is more likely to lead to a hit. However, Washington remains neutral on home runs for those hitting from the left side. Looking at García’s splits with respect to batted ball characteristics reveal his home run-to-fly ball rate drops from 19.2% at home to 6.7% on the road. But it’s not just that the ball is carrying better because, additionally, his hard hit rate increases from 24.1% on the road to 38.4% at home. That García’s strikeout rate drops 10 percentage points in his home ballpark relative to everywhere else, in conjunction with his improved contact quality on fly balls, seems to suggest he sees the ball better at Nats Park than anywhere else. And for what it’s worth, a special aptitude for vision is what kept Lionel’s girlfriend from abandoning him, as she believed the tarot reading done by her seer/grandmother that foretold a fated, long-term romantic entanglement with Lionel.

Many don’t believe in fate and instead subscribe to the nihilistic view that the universe is composed of randomness, which at times manifests as utter, uninterpretable chaos. T-Mobile Park in Seattle is one of the worst ballparks for hitters, both overall and across all individual components, unless, by chance, you happen to be Luke Raley. The Mariners outfielder/first baseman defied the natural order of the universe (to the extent that there is one) and posted a .393 wOBA, 166 wRC+, and hit 15 home runs across 229 plate appearances at home, with a .295 wOBA, 91 wRC+, and seven homers over 226 PA on the road. Looking at component factors does absolutely nothing to explain Raley’s performance at T-Mobile Park, since as a lefty, all of Seattle’s horrible hitting juju applies even more so than it does for righties. His BABIP hovered around .300 both at home on the road, suggesting that if there’s luck in his performance, it was distributed evenly at home and on the road. In terms of his batted ball profile, Raley did have a higher hard hit rate at home, and he also pulled the ball more and put it in the air more, which collectively signals an overall higher quality of contact. Perhaps like the tarot-reading grandmother, Raley possesses some special sight that allows him to see the ball in a way that no one else has mustered at T-Mobile Park, or perhaps, as is the messaging of much absurdist art, we must simply submit to the random, chaotic winds of the universe, blowing some fly balls over the fence and leaving others to die on the warning track.

Whatever force is tasked with inflicting chaos upon the masses, it seems to enjoy unleashing Yordan Alvarez as often as possible. It’s true that Houston’s lefty DH/left fielder was not involved with the Astros’ banging scheme scandal, but he nevertheless is a frequent recipient of boos at away ballparks due to his uncanny ability to launch game-winning, soul-crushing moonshots in front of opposing fans. Though the booing is more of a vibes-based response, the data show that Alvarez does tap into his power more frequently on the road, hitting both doubles and home runs at a much higher rate, leading to a road wRC+ that is 62 points higher than his mark at home (a road advantage topped only by J.P. Crawford of the Mariners).

Again, wRC+ already accounts for the overall run environment, but not the components by which a particular player might be more heavily impacted. Houston’s ballpark, which is now called Daikin Park, grades out as neutral to hitters overall and with respect to left-handed home runs, but for doubles, a lefty hitter should have an easier go of it (though it’s worth noting Alvarez pulls the ball at a below average rate for lefties). But despite the neutral or better home park environment, in 2024, Alvarez hit 12 doubles and 13 homers across 315 plate appearances at home, while hitting 22 doubles and 22 homers across 320 plate appearances on the road. Alvarez also walked slightly more on the road, while holding his strikeout rate constant, suggesting a more patient approach that led to higher quality contact; this is reinforced by his higher home run-to-fly ball rate (20.4% vs. 11.7%) and hard hit rate (46.1% vs. 36.1%) away from Houston.

As with some of the other extreme splits, the increased patience and improved contact might mean that Alvarez doesn’t see the ball as well at Daikin Park as he does elsewhere. Or this instance of absurd home/road splits might be trying to send a different message. Absurdist art and its close relative, surrealism, frequently serve to defy logic, or at least quantifiable logic. At the end of Dead Alive, Lionel cuts his way out of his mother’s womb using a talisman that Paquita’s grandmother gave him for good luck. She probably thought its magical properties would prevent anything bad from happening to him, rather than its physical properties allowing him to puncture zombie flesh. Even magic follows no logical order.

Meanwhile, when asked to describe the experience of playing in a big league stadium in front of a packed crowd during the highest leverage moments of the game, players frequently use the word surreal. And in the surreal world, there wouldn’t necessarily be a logical explanation for why Alvarez becomes more powerful on the road, why he happens to be holding a talisman that can puncture the hearts of opposing fans. Maybe he feels less pressure away from the home fans. Maybe he takes a twisted pleasure in making a stadium full of fans fall silent. Maybe, like the zombies in the movie, he takes a poison intended for animals that has the unintended effect of supercharging his abilities. I’m mixing my talisman and poison metaphors now, but as previously established, there are no rules and nothing matters, so just roll with it and instead linger on the thought that if Alvarez ever leaves the Astros, he may morph into a supercharged monster permanently.

While we’re defying logic, I did stumble upon one member of the Colorado Rockies with a home/road split worth mentioning. In 228 plate appearances at Coors Field, Michael Toglia hit eight home runs; in 230 plate appearances away from Coors Field, he hit 17 home runs. So, in nearly the same number of opportunities, Toglia smacked more than twice as many home runs on the road as he did at Coors Field, a park notorious for juicing fly balls. My best guess is that the stadium’s reputation is doing psychic damage to a 26-year-old first baseman with just one full season under his belt. His hard hit rate is still higher at home, suggesting maybe he thinks that all he needs to do is swing out of his shoes and the thin air will do the rest. Meanwhile, his Med% is higher on the road and he hits the ball to the opposite field more often, suggesting a more controlled, purposeful swing away from the influence of Colorado. Maybe he’s overthinking the atmospheric conditions, or maybe he made a deal with an evil imp that granted him 60-grade raw power everywhere except the Mile High City.

Sometimes chaotic occurrences exist purely for comedic relief, offering no larger societal lesson or commentary on humanity. At one point in Dead Alive, Lionel visits his mother’s grave because he knows she’s a zombie and, therefore, not actually dead, so his master plan is to administer sedatives to her indefinitely in order to keep her safely in the ground. When he gets jumped at the cemetery by a band of local hooligans, he’s saved by a priest (literally, not spiritually), who seems to have exactly one skill, which is, as the priest puts it, to “kick ass for the Lord.” He does single-handedly wipe out the hooligans with what appears to be self-taught kung fu, but then promptly gets conscripted to the zombie ranks. The kung fu priest of baseball is Mike Yastrzemski, right fielder for the Giants, whose extreme singular skill is striking out way less at home than on the road. All of his other splits are as expected, but when batting at Oracle Park, he strikes out 19.7% of the time, compared to 32.6% everywhere else. It’s the most extreme strikeout difference in the bigs by a couple of percentage points.

In the movie’s next scene, Lionel has rounded up the current group of zombies, including the priest and a nurse, who was originally dispatched to look into his mother’s ailments before her transition to undead was complete. The priest and the nurse take a liking to one another and wind up birthing a baby zombie. This leads to a scene that was not in the original script and serves no purpose to the larger narrative; really, it’s just there for the jokes. Jackson decided to add it after they’d finished filming everything else, because they were still under budget, and since then, he has called it his favorite scene in the movie. For no comprehensible reason, Lionel takes the baby to the park, pushing it along in a stroller and mimicking the actions of the mothers he observes interacting with their babies. Perhaps Lionel thought that a change of scenery and treating the baby like a regular human baby would coax it into acting like a regular human baby, but it did not. Instead the viewer is treated to a series of hijinks, where the baby drags Lionel all over the park, and Lionel has to act like tackling a baby is perfectly normal behavior.

New Orioles outfielder Tyler O’Neill is the zombie baby hoping that a change of scenery does prompt a transformation. O’Neill experienced an even stranger flavor of Yastrzemski’s strikeout split. It’s not particularly unusual for hitters to strike out less in San Francisco (though not to the extreme reached by Yastrzemski), and the same holds true for Boston, where O’Neill played his home games last year. But O’Neill flipped the script; instead of striking out less at Fenway Park, he struck out significantly more frequently, posting a rate of 39.7% as opposed to 27.9% on the road. O’Neill hasn’t always struck out more at home than on the road. For example, during his final two years with the Cardinals, he was better in St. Louis than he was away from it, which is interesting considering that Fenway is a much more hitter-friendly park than Busch Stadium. It’s pretty funny to think that Fenway of all places could act as one hitter’s kryptonite, but the Orioles are hoping that was the case here. Perhaps getting O’Neill into a different park will do for him what Lionel couldn’t do for the zombie baby. If O’Neill’s overall line winds up resembling something closer to last year’s road performance, he’s much more likely to be a productive contributor in Baltimore. The spike in strikeouts caused his on-base percentage to crater to .301 in Boston, compared to .369 everywhere else.

For as much as we’d like for everything in baseball and life to follow some logical, rational, and quantifiable natural order, it doesn’t always work that way. There are too many lurking variables, agents of chaos, and forces we don’t yet understand. Sometimes it’s incredibly funny when something happens that we can’t explain. Sometimes it teaches us something completely separate from what we set out to divine. Sometimes we just have to accept that we don’t know what a weird thing is really about.

Look, I get it. You’re up in arms about the Roki Sasaki deal. The rich got richer and we’re all tired of the Dodgers signing every free agent (even you, Dodgers fans) — can they at least make it seem like it’s a level playing field? If that’s how you’ve been feeling this week, though, I’ve got some bad news for you, because I think the two moves the Dodgers have made since signing Sasaki might be bigger deals for 2025. Over the weekend, they signed the top reliever on the market, Tanner Scott. Now, they’re reportedly working on an agreement with Kirby Yates. As Yates’ signing is still pending a physical and has yet to be finalized, let’s cover Scott first, then ruminate on Yates at the end.

Scott’s deal, for four years and $72 million, befits an elite reliever, and that’s exactly what he is. He’s compiled a 2.04 ERA (2.53 FIP) across 150 innings over the last two years, using a lights-out slider and excellent fastball in roughly equal measure. We’re not talking about smoke and mirrors here; both of our pitch models think his fastball is one of the best handful in the game. His gaudy swinging strike rates provide supporting evidence. He sits 96-98 mph and touches 100. Sure, he walks his fair share of batters, but he’s a reliever – that’s just part of the bargain you accept sometimes.

If you’ll recall, the Dodgers leaned heavily on their bullpen in the 2024 postseason. Some of that was because of injuries to the starting rotation, but plenty of it was by choice. The Dodgers assembled a unit with four late-game options, and they used those options aggressively and opportunistically. Best opposing hitter up in the sixth inning? Send in a closer. Starter in a jam and the game on the line earlier than you expected? Send in a closer. Save situation? Fine, sure, we have a few left over anyway, send in a closer. Read the rest of this entry »

Like most of you, I’ve spent all winter with one eye on the Hall of Fame ballot tracker run by Ryan Thibodaux, Anthony Calamis, and Adam Dore.

As an aside: I love the tracker, partly because it’s in the best traditions of citizen journalism/archivism, and has been made essential within its niche by the enthusiasm and thoroughness of the people who run it. It reminds me of The Himalayan Database, which is considered the definitive list of all the climbers who have summited the highest mountains in the world. The Database was founded and run not by a sponsor or NGO, but by a single journalist, Elizabeth Hawley, who tracked, verified, and published ascents from the 1960s until her death in 2018. In this age of corporatization, conglomeration, and misinformation, it’s invigorating to see a single trusted list of Things That Happened published online somewhere by people who care about the historical record.

Anyway, last week, I noticed a fresh shipment of ballots from voters representing the Philadelphia BBWAA chapter, which included a swell of support for Jimmy Rollins’ candidacy. By Sunday, as I was looking over Inquirer columnist Marcus Hayes’ ballot, I found myself experiencing an unexpected combination of emotions. Read the rest of this entry »

Last week, Michael Rosen wrote about Jack Flaherty’s delayed free agency market. Michael advanced a number of theories about why Flaherty hadn’t yet signed a deal, and what that might mean about his fastball, teams’ perceptions of his fastball, and the trajectory of his career broadly speaking. I found that piece really interesting – and I also started thinking about what Flaherty not having signed yet means in a larger sense.

You don’t have to look any further than last year to get an idea of what could happen to Flaherty. Blake Snell and Jordan Montgomery both waited a long time before settling for short-term deals. The year before that, Carlos Correa’s multiple failed physicals kept him on the market until the very end. In 2022, Correa, Kenley Jansen, and Trevor Story all found themselves looking for employment well into March.

All of those players came into the offseason expecting a major contract, and all of them ended up getting less than anticipated, bringing to mind some classic FanGraphs articles from Travis Sawchik, back in the halcyon days of 2018. Those articles drew on a study by Max Rieper that separated free agents into pre- and post-New Year’s signings and found a large discount for the latter group. Read the rest of this entry »

As soon as we get on the phone, Susan D’Andelet tells me that she was at Camden Yards for Jackson Holliday’s first career home run, a monster grand slam that landed out on Eutaw Street a few days earlier. “I went for work, actually,” she clarifies. “We took some of our clients.” It’s August, and as the Orioles challenge the Yankees for the best record in the American League, all of Maryland is buzzing with excitement. “Oh yeah,” she says. “I know they’re calling up another guy from, what is it, Double-A or whatever?” She lets out a big laugh. “You would think I would know more.”

Sports have surrounded D’Andelet (pronounced dee-ON-duh-LAY) her whole life. When her son was a child, he played alongside Bobby Boyd, a speedy outfielder who batted .331 at West Virginia University and spent four years in the Astros system. Boyd is now a CPA, D’Andelet tells me. Her husband is a sports fanatic who often coached their son’s teams. After they met, the couple discovered that their fathers had played together on the same football team, the Langdon Lions.

“I’m a sixth-generation native Washingtonian,” she says. “My dad grew up in D.C. and played all sorts of sports.” She remembers being dragged to Senators games and watching him play softball well into his 30s, before giving it up in favor of golf and fishing. His most enduring contribution to sports was an idea: He was William H. Williams, inventor of the cleat cleaner.

I wrote about the cleat cleaner last year, looking up the patent history to identify Williams as its inventor. A few months after my piece was published, D’Andelet was at a dinner party. “This baseball game happened to be on,” she recalls, “and I said to my friend, who I’ve known since high school, ‘Do you see that mat on the back of the pitcher’s mound?’ And I told her, ‘My dad invented that.’” The revelation earned her a skeptical look.

D’Andelet continues, “We’ve known each other probably 50 years. She said, ‘You’ve never told me that before.’ And I said, ‘Well, I didn’t think it was important.’ You know what I mean? It’s just not something that would necessarily come up. So anyway, I said, ‘Yeah, my dad invented that.’ She kind of looked at me – which people do – like, ‘Yeah… I don’t know about that.’” D’Andelet Googled it to prove her point, and happened upon my article, replete with images from her father’s patent request. She still has the originals.

The cleat cleaner is easy to overlook. Our attention is naturally drawn to incongruity, whereas the cleat cleaner is exquisitely logical and its presence on the back of the mound makes so much sense that you take it for granted. You can stare at it night after night without ever really seeing it. It might never come up in conversation, even if you spent your childhood helping your parents build a business around it. “Everybody knows it’s there, but they don’t think much about it,” D’Andelet says. “So I just thought it was interesting that you were interested.” She reached out a few days later, and when I asked whether she’d be interested in sharing her memories, she was enthusiastic about telling her father’s story.

Williams, known since childhood as Bunky, died from COVID pneumonia in February 2022, just shy of his 95th birthday. He came up with the idea for the cleat cleaner when D’Andelet and her two brothers were small children. “We lived in an apartment in D.C. when my parents had us,” D’Andelet says. “So my mother had three children under three years old. And we were in a one-bedroom apartment in Washington D.C., right off New Hampshire Avenue. I remember that. And then we moved out to the house where it was invented, in Silver Spring, Maryland, 701 Hobbs Drive.”

Williams was a vice president at American President Lines, an international shipping company. “He worked for them his whole business career, 30-some years, and the cleat cleaner was something that he did in the basement,” D’Andelet says. He lobbied on behalf of the company, often on Capitol Hill, though D’Andelet is quick to point out that he wasn’t registered as a lobbyist and never would have assented to being called one. And despite his invention, Williams wasn’t trained in engineering. “No, not at all, but he was very capable of doing a lot of things,” she says. “He was clever, and he was a smart man.” The house on Hobbs Drive had an unfinished basement, so Williams finished it himself, eventually creating a workroom with “a big old wooden workbench.” Aptly, his middle name was Handy.

Williams toiled in the workroom during the evenings, but the cleat cleaner was a family endeavor from the very beginning. “We had a little cottage industry in our home before it was fashionable,” D’Andelet says. Williams made the first prototype out of toys and a spare plank of wood. She remembers being a child and seeing him “drilling out the holes in that piece of wood, and taking my brothers’ plastic toy rockets and cutting them off and putting them in the holes.” The rockets came from sets of those little green army men that many of us had as children. “That’s what he got his patent on,” she says. Did her brothers protest about sacrificing their rockets to the cause? “No, I don’t think so. He might have even broken down and bought extras,” she says with a laugh. “We didn’t have a whole lot at that stage in our lives. He was probably in his 30s and we were all little kids.

Williams tested his prototype the same way anyone would. “I can remember him getting the dirt muddy, squirting it down with the hose in the backyard, getting a big patch of mud,” D’Andelet recalls. “He would have the baseball cleats on himself, and he would get a big old wad of mud on the cleats and then use the cleat cleaner. And so I imagine that he went through a number of these to get it right.” Once he’d perfected the design, Williams applied for and received a patent in 1963. “He found a place in Baltimore that would manufacture them,” she says. “He had a mold created, and had the company in Baltimore make these products. I remember my mother would load us all into the car and drive us to Baltimore, and we’d load them all in the trunk. What I remember in particular was that the rubber that they were made out of stunk. And the whole basement stunk.”

D’Andelet’s mother, Nettie Williams, now lives with her in Delaware. “She’s a delightful person, always was and still is. Very much a team player.” As the business got going, D’Andelet says, “my mother was really the one who was running it. She was a stay-at-home mom and she had the three of us. And when he started with this, she was right there at his side doing whatever needed to be done.” They initially marketed the cleat cleaner as a football product, sending mailers to NFL teams. “She did all the banking and bookkeeping, and the invoices would come in and she’d fill the orders.” Nettie made regular visits to the bank in Montgomery Country, often being served by the same young teller. “He was trying to figure out at the time why she had all these checks with the logos of the professional football teams on them,” D’Andelet says. One day, the bewildered teller finally asked whether Nettie was a cheerleader. “I guess that was the only thing he could come up with.”

Nettie went to secretarial school, so she was Bunky’s at-home secretary. D’Andelet remembers how he would return home after work, walk through the door, and say, “Nettie, take a letter!” Thinking about the scene now, D’Andelet laughs. “So she’d get her stenographer’s pad out and do shorthand, and be in there typing up letters to all the professional teams — the professional football teams and then eventually the baseball teams. And so she was the jack-of-all-trades. So whatever needed to be done, it was her and us. We were the cheap labor… Whether it was stuffing envelopes with flyers, or putting stamps on the envelopes. We would package up the cleat cleaners, initially it was in boxes, and we would address them and tape them up and take them to the post office. Everything that was done, we did.”

Although they started with football, cleat cleaners became more associated with baseball because they sat on the back of the mound, in clear view of millions of home viewers. Yet, despite the product’s popularity, Williams “didn’t make a killing from selling the cleat cleaner,” D’Andelet says, “It wasn’t what we lived off of. It was just a little aside for him. He saw that there was a need for this.”

It remained a cottage industry. When she was in her early 20s, D’Andelet’s friend, Chris Williams (no relation), posed for flyers. “He was the shoe model – or the foot model, or whatever you want to call it,” she says. “He played baseball a lot. He was very active. And my dad would have him put the cleats on and get them all muddied up, and try to get the mud out with the cleat cleaner and take pictures.”

Williams also invented a kicking tee. “That never really took off,” D’Andelet says, “and I don’t know why. It was called the Sky Tee and it sat on his rolltop desk.” At some point, the manufacturer in Baltimore was bought by another company. The new owner mistakenly believed that they also owned the mold, and Williams needed a lawyer to help him get it back. He kept the business going into his mid-80s, and you can still find the original cleatcleaner.com website, from 2001, on the Wayback Machine.

After making cleat cleaners for 50 years, Williams sold the business, along with the original mold, about 10 years ago. Before he did so, he asked whether anyone in the family wanted to take over. D’Andelet has spent her entire career in the mortgage, title, and real estate industry, and she just couldn’t see herself continuing the business. “It would have been nice,” she says. “It was kind of hard to say no.” She still has some cleat cleaners, but they’ve been in storage since a move a few years back.

D’Andelet still sees reminders of her father. On the highway, she sometimes finds herself alongside 18-wheelers hauling American President Lines shipping containers. “And you’ll see the ships. I see them sometimes when I’m going over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. I’ll see the ships going along with the APL.”

The cleat cleaner is more widespread than ever. The patent expired back in 1980, and these days, there’s no shortage of companies manufacturing them. They come in an ever-expanding variety of styles, shapes, and colors, but Williams’ original design, the one that started as a plank of wood and sawed-off toy rockets, is still in production. And despite her best efforts, D’Andelet isn’t going to escape sports anytime soon. “I ended up marrying a man who was as interested in sports,” she says, building up to the punchline. “I said, ‘Look you can play all the sports you want to. Don’t expect me to come sit there and watch it.’”

Kristian Campbell shot up the rankings last year, and elevating was a big reason why. Known primarily for his athleticism and bat-to-ball skills when he was drafted 132nd overall by the Red Sox in 2023, the Georgia Tech product transformed his right-handed stroke to the tune of 20 home runs and a 180 wRC+ over 517 plate appearances across three levels. Flying under most radar as recently as a year ago, Campbell is now one of the game’s top prospects. Moreover, he has a legitimate chance to break camp as Boston’s starting second baseman.

I asked the 22-year-old infielder about his swing change when the Red Sox held their annual rookie development camp at Fenway Park earlier this week.

“It’s been all about bat path,” explained Campbell, who had a 90% contact rate but just four home runs in his lone collegiate season (he’d been a freshman redshirt in 2022) . “Instead of being flat, or straight down, I’m trying to hit the ball at a good angle. That’s what I lacked coming into pro baseball, hitting the ball in the air. I never really hit for power before last year.”

The proof is in the numbers, and not just ones that can be found on the back of a baseball card. In 2023, Campbell went deep once in 84 professional plate appearances while logging a 48% ground ball rate with a minus-2 attack angle. This past season, the aforementioned 20 home runs — eight each in High-A and Double-A, and four in Triple-A — were accompanied by a 39% ground ball rate and a plus-9 attack angle. His xwOBAcon jumped from .327 to .422.

According to Campbell, his conversion didn’t require a complete revamping of his mechanics. Read the rest of this entry »