Oakland A's General Manager Billy Beane once said in the critically acclaimed book "Moneyball," by Michael Lewis, that relief pitchers are relief pitchers because they aren't good enough to be starters. And seeing how Beane, arguably baseball's brightest mind, has managed to compile the fifth-best record in the majors since 1998 (when he took over his current position with the club) despite having one of the lowest payrolls, my gut says he's right.
Take Mariners' lefty-specialist/King-of-bling (just ask Omar Vizquel) Arthur Rhodes who recently landed himself on the disabled list, versus the other King, young-gun Felix Hernandez, who one-hit the Boston Red Sox on Wednesday night. So if we stay with Beane's theory, then the most prominent of all the relief pitchers?closers?must be the worst, or at least the most insignificant, considering that upon entering any one game all they really have to do is get three outs, right? Beane's sentiments exactly.
How to determine just how good a closer actually is can be measured in countless ways: earned run average, strikeouts per innings pitched, groundball outs, but, principally, saves. According to Wikipedia (a more veritable source than the actual MLB rulebook apparently), a save is credited to a pitcher who is the last, but not the winning pitcher in a game won by his team who fulfills at least one of the following three conditions: No. 1. He comes into the game with a lead of no more than three runs and pitches for at least one full inning; No. 2. He comes into the game with the potential tying run either on base, at bat, or on deck; No. 3. He pitches for at least three innings after entering the game with a lead.
So if the closer can follow these precise step-by-step instructions, then at the end of the day we give him one gold star in the save department. Simply put, again, it's basically the number of times a pitcher gets three outs, right?
Just last week, I was discussing this issue with a friend who is knowledgeable in this field of study. Prior to that talk, when it came to closers, my feelings had resonated with Beane for most of my baseball life. Especially when guys like Toronto's B.J. Ryan were being awarded some of the richest contracts in history?$47 million over five years to be exact?for spending all of three minutes in the field per game if that. When The New York Times first reported Ryan's signing his colossal deal, which may or may not have been in Canadian dollars, Blue Jays' General Manager J.P. Ricciardi (a former Beane assistant) immediately denied it, to which I in turn thought, "Wow, it's a good thing he denied it, because that would be a ridiculous amount of money to spend on B.J. Ryan." Taking the liar-liar-pants-on-fire approach never crossed my mind, because quicker than you could say "Joe Carter," Ryan was headed north of the border after all.
"Closers are the most overrated players on the field," I went on to tell my friend. "All they have to do is get three outs, and any average pitcher could do that night-in night-out." My buddy shook his head with a smirk on his face, then retorted with one of the most blatant, yet concealed truths that momentarily threw my world askew: "You're just saying that because you have Mariano Rivera. If you were a Devil Rays fan, you'd be thinking otherwise." Besides mistaking me for the owner of the New York Yankees, his statement was right on point. Having been a fan of the Bronx Bombers since 1995, and having witnessed four World Series Championship teams during that timeframe, not to mention never seeing them miss the playoffs in that 12-year span, it seemed as though I had forgotten the little things that I had to be grateful for?the biggest of these little things being Yankees closer Mariano Rivera.
Somewhere between when the future Hall of Fame hurler was first introduced at Yankee Stadium by Metallica's "Enter Sandman," and his whining (with good reason) about a new contract extension this spring, I had somehow forgotten about his 2.28 career ERA, seven all-star game appearances, 413 saves, and affable personality. But most of all, I had forgotten about when Rivera had mattered most: in the playoffs. Over 112.7 innings pitched in 73 postseason appearances since '95, Mo Money has an 8-1 record, with 34 saves, and a jaw-dropping 0.80 ERA. Sure, he's had his problems over that stretch (2001, 2004), but what superstar hasn't? And suddenly I realized that I had been taking for granted this icon and his impeccable service record all along; and the more I thought about it, so had Billy Beane, who has had the luxuries of shutdown men Keith Foulke, Billy Koch, and now Huston Street. How else could you explain the safety, security, and comfort that I derive from a Yankee lead entering the ninth inning? We all know that 99 times out of 100, Rivera will enter and slam the door shut with that filthy cutter, even when everybody knows it's coming. But what if New York had been sans Mo during all those historic playoff runs? And that's when it really hit me: Closers must be the most valuable players in baseball.
Sirens are going off in your mind right now, I know. But see if you can't clear the mechanism at least for another couple of minutes so that I might try to explain myself as best I can.
At the conclusion of the regular season, closers are buried beneath everyday, five-tool position players in MVP voting for the obvious reason that the former normally plays every third day for about one inning, while the latter plays almost every day for nine innings or more. Hence, closers are very nearly forgotten, or position players grab most of the spotlight. Either way, we lose sight of their importance to our team...that is, until October rolls around.
Take Tigers' reliever Jose Mesa for example. In the bottom of the ninth in Game 7 of the 1997 World Series between the Cleveland Indians and the Florida Marlins, Mesa was brought in to close out a 2-1 game in what would have been the Tribe's first title since 1948. But the husky right-hander couldn't get it done, surrendering the tying run on a Craig Counsell sacrifice fly, diminishing Jaret Wright's (yes, the Jaret Wright) stellar performance, while enabling Charles Nagy to give up a walk-off single to an infantile Edgar Renteria in the bottom of the 11th. Had the Indians had a better closer, they, and not the Marlins, would have won the series. Similar horror stories include Byung-Hyun Kim of the Arizona Diamondbacks, Brad Lidge of the Houston Astros, and Mitch Williams of the Philadelphia Phillies.
The side where the grass is greener? The best example is clearly Rivera and his exceptional postseason performances, but how about Adam Wainwright of the defending champion St. Louis Cardinals? Or Bobby Jenks of the 2005 champion White Sox? Troy Percival was terrific in shutting down the Yankees, Twins, and Giants for the Angels in '02 as well. And even though it wasn't the playoffs, Red Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon's performance against the Rangers on Sunday removed all of my previous doubts about the flame-throwing sophomore; then I saw his grace, now I'm a believer.
Closers come in a variety of forms. Some are Cy Young winners like Eric Gagne, while others are irascible convicts like Ugueth Urbina. But no matter what qualities or characteristics they possess, each of them is harnessed with one of the most difficult responsibilities in sports: preserving a lead. It's one thing to take it, but keeping it is another story. They may not be as good as starters, but they are just as, if not more, valuable, especially when the pressure is on to secure that win when failure is not an option, each closer repeating in their respective heads to their victims the batters, that it's closing time and you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. And plus, there'll be plenty of time for blowing saves when you're living in a van down by the river (or pitching for the Devil Rays).