The Running of the Bell

Michelle Yeoh is one of the greatest actors working today. How do I know that? It’s not her 40-year career, the 50-plus films on her résumé, or the Academy Award in her trophy case. No, it’s the fact that she was cast in the film adaptation of Wicked, one of the most beloved musicals on the planet, despite having no previous vocal training or singing experience. She told director Jon M. Chu as much before she agreed to join the cast: “You know Jon, I don’t sing.” With all due respect, it shows.

If you haven’t already seen Wicked, well, you should hurry up, because the Oscars are on Sunday. At the very least, take a listen to “The Wizard and I,” in which Yeoh sings alongside Broadway star and Academy Award nominee Cynthia Erivo. Their pairing is the vocal equivalent of the “unfinished horse drawing” meme. Yet, within the context of the entire film, Yeoh makes it work. Her acting is so strong, her portrayal of Madame Morrible so complete and convincing, that by the end of the movie, it’s hard to imagine anyone else in the role. She might have a dark blue slider bar in the Vocal Runs Above Average section of her Cinema Savant page, but her overall performance was well above replacement level.

There are surely some passionate musical theatre fans who took umbrage at the casting of a non-singer in a singing role. I don’t count myself among them. I think there is something wonderful about the idea that someone can use their strengths to overcome their weaknesses. It’s nice to know a person doesn’t have to be skilled at every part of an activity to be altogether successful. On that note, here’s what it looks like when professional baseball player Josh Bell tries to run:

Bell wasn’t even the baserunner in that last clip, but how could I leave it out? Look at how far J.T. Realmuto had made it down the baseline when Bell picked up the ball:

And here’s Realmuto reaching the bag a split second before Bell:

Yeoh is an Oscar-winning actor, which means she can star in a movie musical despite a weak singing voice. Likewise, Bell is a Silver Slugger-winning hitter, which means he can have a major league career despite being one of the worst baserunners I’ve ever seen. And I think that’s great.

A couple of months ago, I wrote about players who attempt only one stolen base in a full, qualified season. I named such a season after Paul Konerko, who holds the record for the most individual campaigns that meet the criteria. However, Bell was the player that stuck with me the most after writing that piece. Take a look at this table showing the eight players in recorded MLB history to have four or more qualified seasons with exactly one stolen base attempt:

As far as accomplishments go, a Konerko is largely arbitrary and completely trivial. Still, that’s an impressive list of names. Jim Thome and David Ortiz are Hall of Famers. Miguel Cabrera will join them soon enough. Victor Martinez, Frank Howard, and Adrián González were all exceptional talents in their own right. Konerko is a White Sox legend. Of course, it’s no mere coincidence that this leaderboard is littered with All-Stars. This is a list of guys who racked up a ton of qualified seasons, and they earned all that playing time despite providing next to nothing on the basepaths. No wonder they were great hitters. They’re all examples of players who made up for a weakness in one area with their strengths in others.

Yet, Bell stands out from the pack for a handful of reasons. For one, he’s still active, and he’s young enough that he could easily add a few more Konerko seasons to his tally before his career is up. He is also unmistakably the worst overall player of the bunch. That’s less a knock on Bell and more a credit to the others. Here’s how Bell stacks up to the rest of the list in terms of WAR:

This means Bell comes the closest to the point at which the rest of his skills might not be enough to compensate for his poor baserunning. Indeed, he has put up negative Offensive Runs Above Average (Off) the past two years due to poor baserunning numbers canceling out his slightly above-average bat. Meanwhile, guys like Cabrera or Thome could have insisted on attempting 50 steals a year and still been valuable players.

The last thing that sets Bell apart from the others is that he’s the only one who was caught stealing in all of his Konerko seasons. That also makes him the only player in recorded MLB history with four qualified seasons of exactly one stolen base attempt and one caught stealing. Only three other players have even had three such seasons. Only 30 have done it twice.

Bell went 0-for-1 on the bases in 2024. He went 0-for-1 on the bases in 2023. He also went 0-for-1 on the bases in 2022. Unfortunately, he didn’t attempt any stolen bases in 2020 or 2021. But in 2019? He went 0-for-1. That’s truly a remarkable run of stolen base ineptitude. From 2019-24, Bell was one of 151 players to accumulate 2,000 or more plate appearances. He was the only one without a single stolen base. Take a look at his four attempts from the past six years for a textbook lesson on how not to steal a base:

Bell ran a little more regularly during his first three big league seasons. However, he wasn’t any more productive. From 2016-18, he went 4-for-14 (28.6%) in stolen base attempts. That’s technically better than his 0% success rate from 2019 onward. Yet, according to weighted Stolen Base Runs (wSB), Bell was almost twice as detrimental on a per-game basis in his first three seasons than he’s been in the six seasons since. Let me put that another way: He is the only player (min. 2,000 PA) without any stolen bases in the past six years – and he’s still been a more effective base stealer than he was the three years prior.

All told, Bell has produced -9.8 wSB in his career. That’s the lowest total in the sport in that time by more than two runs. To put that number in context, consider that Rickey Henderson was worth 9.5 wSB in 1982, when he set the modern record with 130 stolen bases in a season. Even that legendary performance wouldn’t be quite enough to outweigh the damage Bell has done on stolen base attempts throughout his career.

Making Bell’s poor baserunning all the more interesting is the fact that he isn’t even that slow. To be clear, he is slow. But he’s hardly the slowest player in the league. More than 50 qualified runners had a slower average sprint speed in 2024:

In fact, Bell actually used to have above-average sprint speed. He isn’t the fastest guy around, but speed isn’t the whole story. Simply put, he’s just bad at this:

To that point, Bell’s maladroitness isn’t limited to stolen base attempts. Since his debut in 2016, he has racked up -28.1 BsR. No active player has a lower baserunning value in that time. And the number one reason for that low BsR? Running into outs at home.

If you’re familiar with Bell’s brand of baseball, I’m sure you can picture him trundling down the third base line while the ball sails past and beats him to the plate by several feet. Naturally, he’ll try (and fail) to pull off an outlandish slide to avoid the tag. With that image in my head, I started looking into the numbers on a hunch, and I was very pleased to find I was 100% correct. No player has hurt his teams more by running into outs at the plate since he broke into the league:

I invite you to sit back and enjoy a compilation of some of Bell’s worst outs at home:

Like Colin Firth in Mamma Mia and Russell Crowe in Les Misérables, Michelle Yeoh is the latest in a long line of Oscar-winning actors to fake their way through a musical role. And like Miguel Cabrera and Paul Konerko, Josh Bell is the latest in a long line of sluggers to plod their way along the basepaths.

Perhaps Bell’s coaches, teammates, and fans have long been frustrated by his baserunning, but personally, I continue to be impressed. Bell is proof that you don’t have to be good at everything to be good at something. He’s an admirable example of a man continuing to try something he just isn’t good at. And if none of that sentimental stuff moves you, well, at least we can all admit his baserunning antics are entertaining to watch.