The Cliff Floyd Factor: Something Bill James Can't Measure

I doubt Cliff Floyd has heard of Bill James, or sabermetrics. I'm willing to stake my Huffington Post paycheck he has no idea what his VORP (value over replacement player) level is, how high his PECOTA (player and empirical comparison optimization test algorithm) stats are or how he contributes to his team's Pythagorean expectation.

Here's what I do know. Wherever Cliff Floyd goes, his teams win. Not only do they win, they turnaround. It's as if before Floyd got there not only weren't they winning but his teams appeared to have little idea how to win. Here's what I mean:

Florida Marlins
In 1996, the team was 80-82, finishing 3rd in the NL East. Floyd joins the team in 1997. They go 92-70 and win the World Series.

New York Mets
In 2001, the team was 75-86, finishing 5th in the NL East. Floyd joins the club in 2003. Three seasons later the Mets are one strike away from going to the World Series.

Chicago Cubs
In 2006, the team was 66-96, finishing last in the NL Central. Floyd joins the team in 2007 and they go 85-77, winning the NL Central.

Tampa Bay Rays
Since their inception in 1998, this franchise has only finished above last place in their division once. They have never won more than 70 games in a season, and reached that meager total but once. Floyd joins the team this season and they are leading AL East through the first third of the season. Their record has been at times the best in baseball.

(There is one statistical anomaly in Floyd's career. In 1993, the Montreal Expos finished 2nd in the NL East with a distinguished 94-68 record. They were already a "winning team" before Floyd's rookie season the following year, 1994. In that next season, however, before Major League Baseball closed up shop due to a work stoppage, the Expos with Floyd were in 1st place,34 games over .500. (74-30), enjoying the best winning percentage in franchise history. Coincidence?)

It's not like Floyd carries his teams. He's typically not the best player. It's something about his presence that does it.

You ever notice how some guys, team after team, always end up on the championship teams? Why did Robert Horry, Dennis Johnson and Bob Dandridge always show up in the NBA Finals? How come Herb Adderley, Matt Millen and Wilber Marshall kept appearing in Super Bowls? Why did David Eckstein, Paul O'Neill and Curt Schilling figure prominently in multiple World Series with multiple teams? It's not just their performance. It's got to be what they do to improve the performances of their teammates. Is there a way to statistically measure that effect?

Unfortunatley sabermetrics cannot nor can any kind of metrics measure the unmeasurable little things teammates do for each other to make each other better. You can't measure a conversation that instructs or motivates or takes pressure off. You can't quantify a well timed joke that eases tension in the clubhouse. Or a look that reassures. Or a skillful deflection of the media away from a player who can't handle it. Or a million other little things that go into the relationships that are bonded over the course of season together. These are the human qualities that elude objective statistical analysis. But they're crucial to creating a winning team. In order to win, especially to win a championship, it's not simply about being the best player but about making other teammates play better.

A brief but relevant digression (optional reading):

Whether it's Ping-Pong, bowling, or a game of UNO (and I've played them all with him), it's always better to be on John's team. John is the most competitive person I know. He's always thinking, always trying to find a way to win. He never lets up. He knows how to get at you--how to get in your head. And he does it with a big smile. John's younger cousin, Eric, became one of the best basketball players in our high school's history, but nobody gives him more trouble than John. Eric knows it.

I played basketball against John in junior high school. We didn't really meet then, but it was my first experience with him. We had a better team, but John was so intense. No matter what the score, this kid never stopped coming at us. A year later we went to the same high school together. We became the best of friends there.

My sophomore year I got called up to the varsity basketball team after playing seven games on junior varsity. That's what I wanted, but I was never more satisfied playing high school basketball than when I played those seven games on JV with John; him on the point and me on the wing. I wanted to win more because I was on his team and I knew how much we wanted to win. Maybe I was a better player than John, but playing with him made me play better.

(In 1985, the Villanova men's basketball team recorded one of, if not the greatest, upsets in NCAA Tournament history by playing near-perfect basketball to win the national championship, stunning Patrick Ewing's overwhelmingly favored Georgetown team. John attended Villanova that same year. Coincidence?)

End of digression.

I'm not anti-statistics. I don't think you can seriously understand the game without them. (Though guys like Billy Martin did a pretty good job managing on instinct. And, as Malcolm Gladwell would be quick to point out our instinct is the cumulative product of our experience. The more experience we have the more accurate our instinct is. A guy like Billy Martin carried around a vast accumulation of baseball experience so his managerial instincts calculated odds as good any statistical formula.) But regardless how many PhD's from MIT concoct new statistical formulae to analyze the game, sports is still played by the athletes on the field. They are fallible, unpredictable human beings capable of change - change that exceeds their past record of performance or the opposite. Their motivation to perform well must come from somewhere outside beyond statistical probability, beyond the paycheck, beyond the ingrained goal of winning.

There's a compelling moment in Mark Bowden's Black Hawk Down where Bowden interviews members of the participating Delta Force. These men were expert human fighting machines who had chosen to make frontline combat their life. The reason these men continue to take yet another tour of duty or another mission - the reason they risk their lives again and again -- isn't political, financial or because they're ordered to do so. The reason they do it is for "the guy next to you."

Sitting atop the American League East, the 2008 Tampa Bay Rays have shocked Major League Baseball. The month of June will be a test as Rays play five other division leaders: Boston Red Sox, LA Angels, Florida Marlins, Chicago Cubs, Chicago White Sox. Things got off to a good start last week against the White Sox when Cliff Floyd broke up a tense 1-1 game with lead-off, walk-off homer run in the bottom of ninth.

Tampa Bay skipper Joe Maddon told MLB.com that Floyd's dramatic homer sent his jubilant Rays rushing onto Tropicana Field, but the celebration didn't erupt until Floyd got to home plate.

"They were waiting on Cliff Floyd ... and that really stood out for me -- what they think of him," Maddon said. "Cliff from the very first day I met him, among the position players, he had that influence."

Somebody ought to measure that.

Comments

[kjhlavacek]

Dave,

I respect you as a writer, but this is by far the stupidest Sports column I have ever read. One player has ABSOLUTELY ZERO EFFECT on the team.

-Clubhouse cancer's do not exist.
-"Dirt Dogs" do not inspire other players to play hard.
-Franchise curses DO NOT EXIST.

Claiming that Cliff Floyd (we're talking about the same Cliff Floyd here right?) is the reason these teams have achieved at the levels they have is insane. You know what does exist though:

COINCIDENCES!

Did you consult Dusty Baker and Joe Morgan for this article? Because it reeks of stupidity.

Signed,

The Entire Fanbase of Baseball

[Dave Hollander - Huffpost Blogger]

-Clubhouse cancer's do not exist.
-"Dirt Dogs" do not inspire other players to play hard.
-Franchise curses DO NOT EXIST.

Well, we agree on the third one. We disagree on the first two. I believe in team chemistry. I think that chemistry can be positively or negatively affected by certain individuals who posses a special ability to influence other players and change the team environment, thus impacting the team's fortunes in a very real way. I think this is true for all sports. You don't.

You say "One player has ABSOLUTELY ZERO EFFECT on the team." Now, really, how can that be true?

[archmandrate]

Or another example:

Look at the 2006 Cubs:

Derek Lee played in only 50 games. They didn't have Soriano yet. Other than Zambrano, no starter pitched more than 25 games, and their bullpen was shaky. Prior and Wood were both hurt, and Maddux had his worst year.

In 2007, the Cubs:

Added Soriano (huge)
Upgraded over Cedeno with Theriot
Added healthy Lilly and Marquis
Rich Hill also contributed almost 200 innings

And, except for their closer (the shaky Dempster), had a very solid bullpen

Yes, Floyd was a big addition, but again, he only played 100 games -- not exactly "healthy" numbers. And it was the additions of Soriano and a healthy Lee that really made the difference.

We could do the same for the Mets and Expos.

[archmandrate]

AAARRGGH!

This is all based on coincidence, though. For example, look at this:

The '97 Marlins also added (from 96):
Livian Hernandez
Moises Alou
Bobby Bonilla
Luis Castillo
Alex Fernandez (pitching waaayyy above his means)
Dennis Cook

and already had:
Sheffield
Renteria
Nenn
Leiter
Kevin Brown

Cliff Floyd played in 61 games, batted .234, drove in 19 runs, and hit 6 hr. He had an OPS of .799, which is respectable, but that's how did his heart (and not the all-stars around him) win the WS?

The thing is, baseball is a team sport, so for one guy to have that much of an impact makes no sense -- according to the statistics. If you ever speak to someone who enjoys sabermetrics, you'll never find one who look solely at the numbers. But, in helping determine the impact of a player, we have data that we can actually point to. And, time and again, these numbers (again, statistically -- meaning within the margin of error), generally show the tendency a player is going to take in regards to how he performs. Granted, there are always anomalies, but numbers explain that, as well.

So I'm not saying that I discount heart -- I think Cliff Floyd is a class act, and I'm sure he's a positive influence on his team. But if I had to choose between a healthy Cliff Floyd or a healthy Barry Bonds, I'd choose Barry Bonds every time.

[Dave Hollander - Huffpost Blogger]

I wouldn't.

Look, you can geek out with statistics all you want, but last time I checked, human beings play the sport. Humans are emotional creatures, susceptible to motivation. Motivation can be both positive and negative. The negative motivational impact Bonds had on his teammates might very well have prevented his teams, despite his incomparable statistics, from WINNING a championship. Turn the questions around: why did someone with Bond's stats never win the World Series and why does someone with Floyd's mediocre stats end up on winning teams that hadn't won before. You seem to like statistics in all other areas of baseball analysis but the statistic of Floyd joining teams those teams becoming winners doesn't work for you?

It doesn't matter that Floyd was injured at times. What matters is his presence. Anyone who's ever been on a team knows that this counts for a lot. In Floyd's case, it may count for more than that.

[wavydavy]

Teh stupid. It hurts. Please stop.

"...why did someone with Bond's stats never win the World Series and why does someone with Floyd's mediocre stats end up on winning teams that hadn't won before."

First of all, in English, we end sentences that ask a question with something called a question mark. It looks like this: ?. Try it sometime.

Second, to answer the question: in no particular order of importance, how about coincidence, chance, shit happens, statistically normal deviation, that's the way life is, and what possible difference does it make?

Charlie Silvera was called up to the NY Yankees in 1948 and played 4 games. Then each of his first FIVE full seasons, the Yankees won the World Series. Was he the reason?

Or, to invert your antipathy to Barry Bonds, I think most BB people would consider Ernie "Let's Play Two" Banks the anti-Bonds. In addition, he was a HoF caliber player. And the Cubs won how many World Series in his tenure? Oh, that's right -- same number as Bonds.

[Himme]

Dave,
I'm not sure I understand; if you are a Mets fan are you are so enthusiastic about Cliff Floyd returning to the Metrpolitans, why not get Barry Bonds, assuming Floyd is going to cost them a solid prospect? Bonds and Flyod both share very much the same liabilities in that they are injury prone and below average defensively, and you cannot argue that Bonds is ten times the hitter Floyd is. And don't give me the whole 'distraction' argument; Bonds does not have to appear before court until March 12th, when he might not even still be in baseball, let alone donning the orange and blue.

[Dave Hollander - Huffpost Blogger]

The Mets problems go well beyond a one-player fix.

Also, I use Cliff Floyd to represent a concept: the player who's presence on the team has so much positive influence on his teammates -- on or off the field -- that he creates the necessary and elusive cohesion between players to foster a winning team. There are players other than Cliff Floyd who have this effect. I tend to think Barry Bonds has the opposite effect though, in his hey day, his extraordinary statistical performance offset any negative non-statistical effects.

[wavydavy]

"though, in his hey day, his extraordinary statistical performance offset any negative non-statistical effects."

Hmmmm.... backing off your thesis a little bit? Had time to think about how unbelievably stupid it is?

Ask the 72-73-74 Oakland A's how important "chemistry" or "cohesion" or "positive influences" are to a team's success. Or maybe the 77-78 Yankees. Or any others from a list to long to include here.

So, are you Cliff Floyd's agent? Did he pay you to write this? Because I cannot think of any other reason to write this nonsense.

[SinanH]

Many don't know that Cliff Floyd's streak of success began as a benchwarmer on the Bad News Bears. While his teammates sulked in the dugout and blamed one another for the team's poor performances, Floyd was writing inspirational speeches and sharing his Gatorade gum with everyone.

[3fingerbrown]

As a Mets fan, I came to admire Floyd's ability and attitude in his years with the team. The big negative, of course, is all those trips to the disabled list: it's hard to count on an everyday player who has so few seasons of 500 or more at-bats. He'll be remembered as one of those guys with Hall of Fame talent who just couldn't stay healthy.

And, yes, Billy Martin was a great "gut" manager, but who's to say he wouldn't have won a few more ballgames if he had paid more attention to statistical analysis? The two things aren't mutually exclusive. Davey Johnson had great success with the Mets utilizing both his gut and the numbers. He was said to be the first of the "spreadsheet managers," but he often used the numbers to innovate by the seat of his pants, like when he played hulking slugger Kevin Mitchell at shortstop when strikeout/flyball pitcher Sid Fernandez was on the mound, or alternating two relief pitchers between the mound and the outfield, depending on who was hitting.

[Dave Hollander - Huffpost Blogger]

As I say, statistical analysis and gut instinct are not mutually exclusive. The Kevin Mitchell-Sid Fernandez schema is a good example. But it"s the ability to identify winners that interests me. That"s what then (1980-1991) Mets General Manager Frank Cashen knew how to do. Kevin Mitchell played on two different teams that went to the World Series. Same for Keith Hernandez, Mookie Wilson, Lenny Dykstra and, for whatever his troubles were, Daryl Strawberry. Even Davey Johnson saw four world series as a player. Cashen was responsible for acquiring all of them.

Compare those Mets to the Mets now -- soulless, leaderless, uninspired team full of statistical stars.* See what I"m getting at? All the number crunching in the world is no substitute for understanding how men work together. And, it seems to me, that certain men like Cliff Floyd have the unique quality of creating winning chemistry amongst what otherwise had been a losing assortment of essentially the same players.

*(And brother, it pains me to say it. 'Cuz I'm a Mets fan.)

[3fingerbrown]

The frustrating thing about this edition of the Mets is that the guys who were brought in to be "chemistry players""Pedro, El Duque, and Alou"are always on the DL and never around to exert their influence. Floyd is a veritable Lou Gherig compared to Moises. The old baseball expression is, You can't make the club in the tub. To which I add, You can't lead the club in the tub either.

Thanks for some smart baseball talk; maybe someday Mrs. H. will add a proper sports section to this site and we can do it more often.

[Himme]

Dave, the Mets are not struggling because they are a bunch of "soulless, leaderless, uninspired team full of statistical stars." They are struggling because three fifths of their rotation has undeeperformed or are injures. They are sturggling because they are forced to start a bench that is collectively hitting .180 in both of the corner outfield spots, because Carlos Beltran has vastly underperformed, because Luis Castillo sucks, and because Brian Schneider has been a amjor disapointment both offensively and defensively.

Really, I mean, who's suddenly the overrated statistical star on this team?

[leftbehind2000]

Cliff Floyd is known around baseball as a card carrying member of the "Good Guys" club.

He also has an enlightened approach to the plate, showing the younger guys how to take a walk.

It may not be all wrapped up in stats, but Floyd is undoubtedly a big net positive wherever he goes. I'm not at all surprised that his presence, wherever he goes, leads to wins for his team. Sometimes, karma actually counts for something.