Elitorial: For diehards, baseball is a numbers game

With six of the eight playoff spots already decided heading into baseball's final week, there is little left for the die-hard fan to focus on other than the exciting pursuit of statistics, a characteristically essential part of the game. Unlike the other three major team sports, baseball has a numerology familiar to all of its ardent followers. If I were to mention the numbers 755, 511, 61, or 56 in a room full of serious baseball fans, the vast majority would easily know the feats to which I was referring (the records for career home runs, career victories, home runs in a single season, and longest consecutive game hitting streak for those who do not fall into this demographic category).

Though basketball, football and hockey players are judged by their numbers as well, I challenge the sports junkie out there to tell me how many points Kareem Abdul-Jabbar scored in his career, or how many touchdown passes Dan Marino has tossed, both of which are all-time records.

My own obsession with these numbers is certainly not in accordance with my personality; you are hearing from someone who scrupulously avoids even the most innocuous of Group IV problem sets. But if you need to figure out a batting average, slugging percentage or earned run average, you've found your calculator.

Only during the baseball season do we have sportswriters making season-long statistical predictions and comparisons after just one-sixth of the campaign has passed. Seattle Mariners superstar Ken Griffey Jr. had a record-setting month of April, and had the baseball world going wild with forecasts of 80 or more dingers over 162 games, if only he could maintain his current pace. After watching Bobby Bonilla belt two homers in his first game with the New York Mets in 1992, I expected at least one of the New York papers to include in their game coverage something about his potential to hit 324 for the year.

Why the obsession with statistics?

1. History. Baseball has a far richer and longer tradition than any other sport, and statistics are the only standardizing measure by which we can even attempt to make comparisons between generations. Often the numbers aren't even enough to judge the relative talents of power pitchers Randy Johnson and Bob Feller, but by looking at their strikeout totals we can at least get an idea about their relative dominance. In addition, certain feats of excellence and/or endurance transcend eras, such as Hank Aaron's home run count or Cal Ripkin's consecutive games streak.

2. Baseball is a game of failure. Michael Jordan can miss 50 percent of his shots in one game and still score 50 points. If he fails on one possession, it is easy for him to redeem himself within one minute. By comparison, even the best batters in baseball fail in nearly 70 percent of their chances, and usually only get four cracks at it each game. The last time anyone was good enough to fail just 60 percent of the time was 1941. Thus, part of the excitement in watching baseball players compile gaudy numbers is precisely because they earn each of the statistics that goes with their name. A hit is much more easily viewed as an accomplishment than, say, a 15 foot jump shot. A home run is even more awesome; consider that Mark McGwire, the major league co-leader with 55, hits just one every 11.6 times he comes to bat.

3. Baseball is the most individual of team games. Part of the great drama of baseball is the individual showdown between pitcher and hitter. Though this idea might oversimplify the game, it is still fair to say that if Tony Gwynn gets a single, he deserves most of the credit, whereas if Jerry Rice catches a touchdown, we must give kudos to the quarterback, his blockers, the coaches for giving him the right pattern and play to run, etc. This is not meant to undermine the talents of other professional athletes, but rather to point out the direct and unavoidable spotlight cast upon baseball players at every point of interaction. Again, baseball statistics are made meaningful because it is easy to see how they are obtained and easy to attribute them to the one who has earned them.

Whether the obsession with statistics is good for the game is a far more complicated question. Owners shell out big contracts for big numbers; consequently players swing for the fences instead of simply advancing runners into scoring position. Unfortunately, I think that this disease is unavoidable. But it is undeniably intriguing to watch as McGwire and Griffey (55 homers each) pursue Roger Maris; as Johnson and Pedro Martinez chase 300 strikeouts; as Johnson and Greg Maddux look for their 20th wins.

Now if only they could use baseball figures to demonstrate the principles of calculus...

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