Closing Time

Man, it sure sucks that we lost the seventh game of the 2005 World Series yesterday afternoon.

What's that? We didn't? Are you sure? You'll have to forgive me then, because that's the impression I got from this morning's papers.

Here's Filip Bondy: “Sandman! Cue Sandman! Sorry, no Sandman. Very clearly, this was no longer the rally-proof

Bronx, the triple-pad-locked, barb-wired playground of a certain

one-pitch reliever.”

Now, I expected no more from the sniggering Muttley of Yankee propagandists. But I was a bit disappointed in Harvey Araton: “From the dugout as Joe Torre's third-base coach and last year as his

first lieutenant, Randolph had a front-row ticket for Mariano Rivera.”

Mariano Who? Oh yeah, the Yankee reliever. But wait a minute — isn't

he the same guy who came into Game 4 of the ALCS, with the Yankees

three outs from a World Series — and blew the save? And isn't he the same guy who came right back in Game 5 of the ALCS — and blew the save?

And perhaps I've gone crazy, because this seems impossible, but isn't

he the same guy who came into today's game (played in that

“triple-pad-locked, barb-wired playground,” if I can quote me up some

of that fancified writin') against the Red Sox — and blew the save?

Now, I'm no math whiz, but from my calculations it looks to me like

this Mariano fella is on a three-game losing streak, saves-wise.

Amnesia may be a necessary part of the toolkit for professional

athletes, but it's a bit embarrassing in professional sportswriters.

I'd climb higher on this particular high horse, except  for the

fact that our new manager is part of the problem. This, alas, was

Willie Randolph yesterday: “There's not too many Mariano Riveras

around, that's for sure.” I can't believe I'm saying this, but time for

a little Wilpon interference. How about a short, sharp memo: We admire your loyalty, Willie, but choose your comparisons more carefully — you work for us now. Any questions, let us know.

Anyway, this is the nature of closers. One of the more-searing parts of Moneyball

is Michael Lewis's description of Billy Beane stamping out closers like

counterfeit coins: “You could take a slightly above average pitcher and

drop him into the closer's role, let him accumulate some gaudy number

of saves, and then sell him off. You could, in essence, buy a stock,

pump it up with false publicity, and sell it off for much more than

you'd paid for it.”

When that was written, Beane had shipped off closer Billy Taylor to

some idiot team that'll remain nameless for Jason Isringhausen, whom he

later let go as a free agent and so converted into Cardinals draft

picks, to be replaced by Billy Koch, who couldn't make the Blue Jays

this spring.

Why is it so easy to mint closers and pass them off on suckers? Because people don't understand the numbers. As Alan Schwarz noted recently

in the Times, last year 84.8% of save opportunities were converted by

relievers considered closers. That works out to 32 of 38, which sounds

good to us, but isn't — it's average. (Schwarz notes that Keith Foulke

is the talk of the town these days, but he was actually slightly below average in save percentage last year. Incidentally, he blew a save today too.)

Braden Looper's an average closer. If he has an average year he'll go

32 of 38; if he has a good one he might go 34 or 35 of 38; if he has a

bad one he might go 29 or 30 of 38. I was gonna say he ain't Brad Lidge

— but you know what? Brad Lidge converted 88% of save opportunities

last year: better than average, but probably not as good as most people

would have guessed. And no, Braden Looper ain't Mariano Rivera, who did

convert 93% last year. (And 50% in the ALCS.) But I've got news for

certain New York media and managerial circles: Recently Mariano Rivera

ain't Mariano Rivera, either.